The PostAnimorphs Saga
by weetzybat
Summary: A disillusioned Andalite prince is given a mission: enter Yeerk territory, now dissolved into chaos, and discover the fate of missing Yeerk warships. The catch:an outdated ship, a crew scraped from the bottom of the barrel, and uncharted, pirated space.
1. Prologue

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born... There are none of the original Animorphs in this story. It is fifty years after the final battle, and a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*Note*: The Andalite talk has completely baffled me. Other than using less contractions than we do, they seem about the same as humans. Also, keep in mind that this is 50 years after the End, so human gestures and expressions would probably have been picked up by the Andalites. At least, that is my excuse as to why they seem more human than they probably should.  
  
Will somebody please tell me how to make Andalite thoughtspeech work out on FF.net? Right now I have to use (*) and I hate it! It doesn't look like Andalites are talking at all! *** (note from the future: I have fixed the thoughtspeak thing, but don't feel like removing any typing, so this will stay here.)  
  
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*~*~*Chapter one: Prologue  
  
Item #: 851912  
  
Description: Thought Journal of Prince Isacor-Isthelin-Aradron,  
  
Captain of the Oberon, recovered at crash site  
  
Location: Hall of Records, Restricted Access,  
  
Post-Battle era 2058 AD  
  
Earth  
  
Begin...  
  
I leave this recording for those who wish to know the truth. Trentil would say I am an idiot, but I believe there are those who still know the meaning of the word. I have to believe it, or else all this has been in vain...  
  
I suppose I should begin with a place we all know well by now: Space. Home to many, now that their worlds lie in ruin, or no longer exist. Some would say it is an evil place, and they would be half right. In fact, it is where good and evil become one and the same, united in the destruction of everything that surrounds them.  
  
"The stars have always been here. They were here when the first Andalite raised his eyes to the night sky and wondered if there was something more. Later, in the midst of wars that killed entire races in an instant, they were a backdrop for the brilliant explosions and the cries of agony that were swallowed up in the vacuum. Even now that our worlds have gone black, they smile down on us. They know how it began."  
  
----final history term thesis introduction by Isacor-Isthelin- Aradron  
  
It was thinking like this that nearly got me expelled from the academy. It was beautiful words, but in a world like this there is no room for dissenters. My instructor told me that if I wanted to write poetry, I could go running to Earth with the rest of the bleeding hearted idiots who were too afraid to do their duty. I elected to stay, and have regretted it ever since. I failed the thesis, by the way.  
  
I have been out here for seven years; fighting in this thing we'd like to call a war. There are no open battles anymore, the Yeerk army collapsed along with the Empire. Still we sit on our haunches, waiting for a confrontation that will never come, pretending we are making a difference. Were fooling ourselves, but we Andalites are good at that.  
  
I can see the Arisths and young warriors out in the dome, talking and laughing as they eat. They can still comprehend things such as honor and loyalty. I envy them. I was like that too, once. I stood in the same place, excited, ready. There was a thrill in not knowing whether you would come back alive. Somewhere along the way death lost its appeal. It may have been when I found out about our proud, fearless leaders that could do no wrong. I had been trained to die for them, for their cause. Brainwashed, some might say. Blinded is more like it. And I made the terrible mistake of lifting the blindfold and seeing what I wasn't meant to.  
  
The end justifies the means. This was the excuse my Captain gave when he sent the warriors under me off to die. It had been a test, to lure the rest of the Yeerk forces into the open. The gamble had cost us more than I had been willing to risk, and I finally I had to confront him, only to discover that he did not care.  
  
I stood and watch them die! No end was worth that!  
  
This was their duty. They were trained for this moment.  
  
It was a slaughter. You tricked them.  
  
And what will you do, Prince Isacor? He was irritated, as if he could not be bothered with my concerns. Will you tell their families that they did not die noble deaths? That it was meaningless? I said nothing. He knew he was right. I would not put a family through such grief only to tell them that it meant nothing. They wanted to believe that we were winning, and that the deceased had played some all-important role that had cost them their life. I would give them solace, but it was then that I lost all faith in my leaders.  
  
Humans had talked of it for years. They said there was no way a society like ours could exist, with everyone working for the common good. I had ignored them, because they were unreliable pessimists whose own world was in disarray. What did they know about the upstanding Andalite leaders? Nothing. Or so I thought. It turns out human nature and Andalite nature are not so different.  
  
I knew the day would come, sooner or later. The Captain would not tolerate me forever. Somehow he would find a way to dispose of me. I just hadn't anticipated how soon, or how devious his strategy would be.  
  
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*A/N* This is my chance to explain all this craziness, so here goes! I think this is supposed to be mainly comedy, a satire of the "perfect" Andalites. Did they seem that way to you? I thought so, and I wanted to show the darker side, but in a funny, ironic way, you know? Did I succeed? Who knows, but the idea of a dysfunctional ship and crew was too good to pass up. It's like "Down Periscope", but with aliens!


	2. The Mission

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born... There are none of the original Animorphs in this story. It is fifty years after the final battle, and a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*A/N* I gotta thank my three lovely reviewers personally for making my day!  
  
Shiver-your story sounds really awesome, I'd like to read it sometime, and thanks for being my first reviewer! *gives present*  
  
Tokoyo-I hope I can live up to the biting satire expectations. I just know that no race can be that honorable, so someone must expose who they really are *evil grin*  
  
DH-hmm, there's a thought, and that part was the hardest to think up. I couldn't figure out what corruption in the Andalite society would be so great that they would want to send Isacor on a 'certain death' mission. I was going to have it just be a secret, but that just sounded so stupid that I had to make something up. I'm glad it worked with the story! I'll be sure to expand on that later.  
  
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*~*~* Chapter two...in which Prince Isacor finds out how screwed he really is  
  
I first became suspicious when I was called to be briefed for what I thought was a routine battle drill and, when I arrived, was the only one present.  
  
Prince Isacor. It was the voice I now associate with destruction and dishonor, which at that moment had me frozen to the spot. All four of my eyes glared resentfully up at my Captain. Why are you so sullen? I feel as though I am addressing a common warrior. As a prince, you should be above such juvenile emotions. His amused tone, used to calm so many young warriors, myself included, now had a sinister note to it, and I wondered why I had never heard it before. Nonetheless, I managed to stand up straighter, look him in the eye, and make my face a mask.  
  
I apologize, Captain. May I ask why I appear to be the only one being briefed for this assignment? Did he expect me to do an entire battle sequence all by myself?  
  
The rest of your crew has their assignments. I regret that you are the last to be informed.  
  
My...Crew?  
  
Yes. This mission is of the utmost importance in the continuing war against the Yeerks...  
  
At this point, I began to tune out his thoughts. I had heard this speech before; it was used to boost morale. It was only when I began hearing words like 'disappearance' and 'Yeerk army' that I started listening again.  
  
...we believe that the Empire may be staging a recovery, which would explain why Yeerk vessels are vanishing inexplicably from their stations. I frowned, which I realize is hard to achieve without a mouth, but trust me, it can be done.  
  
With respect, there has been no Yeerk army for several decades. It seems to me that the ships are merely being melted down into their component metals. They certainly would be more useful that way. My Captain stared at me as though I had just slandered him.  
  
Well, it is a good thing you are not part of our intelligence team. The Yeerks would slip past your careless assumptions with ease, Prince Isacor. His thoughts were taking on an edge. I am questioning my own judgment in allowing you to do this mission. All you are required to do is inspect the worlds currently inhabited by the Yeerks, and if there is any suspicious activity, report it to me. Do you think you can handle that?  
  
Yes. A reconnaissance mission? That was it? Perhaps I was simply paranoid, and the Captain did not hate me as much as I thought. Maybe this was not a punishment, but an honor. And here I had been bordering on the insubordinate.  
  
Good. Meet your crew and ship in docking bay 57. You leave at standard exit time.  
  
So soon? I was puzzled at the rush; this was not the most urgent mission, I was sure. They must need room for incoming ships. Even with the biggest Station ship in existence, which dwarfs even the largest Dome ship in comparison, overcrowding was still common. Before I could ask what the hurry was, my superior turned away from me, indicating that the briefing was concluded.  
  
My cousin Alistair was waiting outside for me. It isn't his real name, but he insists on being called that, and only that. Even I cannot remember his true Andalite name. He was a perfect example of the bleeding hearted weaklings my instructors warned me of, a human-lover. The only reason he had not been sent off to Earth like the rest is because everyone likes him. Rather than being ostracized for his sympathies toward humans, he was put in charge of experimental technologies, a department consisting of a nearly all-human staff.  
  
Unfortunately, his constant exposure to humans has started to affect his speech patterns, something I have come to find mildly irritating.  
  
Hey cousin! I hear you had to face the Big Man all by yourself. You doing a solo? Alistair waved his hands about as he spoke another distracting habit he has managed to pick up from his coworkers. I wouldn't doubt that his arms are the strongest of any Andalite alive, with as much as he uses them. I managed to ignore the references to myself as 'cousin' and the Captain as 'the Big Man' enough to hear his sentence fragment that was meant to be a question.  
  
No. My crew has been briefed. I am going to meet them at my ship.  
  
Oh? Your crew? Your ship? Well, should I bow to this new Captain? He inclined his upper body toward me, which only succeeded in making him look even more foolish that he already was. Even so, the compliment made me glow, and I began to strut ever so slightly.  
  
Hardly. I said, trying to keep my modesty, which was rapidly deserting me. It is only observation.  
  
Observing the Yeerks? Going behind enemy lines, as the humans so aptly put it? I'm jealous.  
  
We walked as Alistair continued boosting my dangerously over-inflated ego, and before I knew it, we had arrived at the docking bay. We both eagerly crowded inside, but at first glance, it seemed empty.  
  
Are you sure this is the right one? Alistair asked.  
  
Bay 57...it should be.  
  
Wait-no, it can't be... My cousin was staring at something in the far port in horror. I followed his eyes, and my face must have taken on the same expression. Until then, I had thought that the Captain may have wanted to make my life miserable, but now I sincerely believed he wanted me dead.  
  
That is not-it can't-how could it? I was unable to even form an entire thought. What had I done to deserve this?  
  
Oh, it is, cousin. Your very own ship. Wow, I thought they'd destroyed this long ago. It's a relic, a part of ancient history. I felt myself wanting to strike him, but what he said was true. I was standing before the Oberon, the single greatest embarrassment of the Andalite race.


	3. In the Beginning, there were Four

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born... There are none of the original Animorphs in this story. It is fifty years after the final battle, and a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*A/N*  
  
DH-hehe, I like Alistair. I made him in part to incorporate all the slang I'm used to using (and to remind me to edit and find where I did it unintentionally), and also for some comic relief. The Captain--jerk? Definitely, and I'm afraid we have not seen the last of him. Also no, the Oberon is not in the books, I just made it up. Its history is detailed in this chapter, so no worries.  
  
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*~*~* Chapter three...Isacor meets his crew...  
  
It began as a vision of the greatest warship ever, and ended as a bitter joke, nearly forgotten.  
  
Andalites were certain that their technology was superior to the humans, and so we had the brilliant idea of developing their primitive artificial intelligence to run a ship. A minimal crew would be needed to operate it, which meant they could have more crews to more ships, and more ships to more fleets, and so we would be an even more formidable foe to the Yeerks.  
  
The only thing we hadn't banked on was the fact that we were terrible at this new human technology. We simply could not grasp the concept, but even then we never faltered in our convictions. The ship was assembled and tested, only to find that is could barely navigate itself, much less know how to lock on and destroy enemy targets. The Oberon was decommissioned, and after that, no one wanted to touch it, even to destroy her.  
  
Until now, I thought gloomily as I looked at it, neglected to the point that no one even noticed her when they came in. The ship had been beautiful once, her structure was the most advanced, and her weapons the best the times had to offer. The Oberon was built for fame, and instead ended up here.  
  
Isacor, what on Earth did you do to the Captain? I didn't bother to get annoyed at Alistair's expressions, because his thoughts confirmed my own: I was doomed. Well, I wish I could hang around and have a more meaningful final conversation with you, but even I have a job to do... he cast a pitying glance my way as he left. This put me in a fouler mood. I did not want to be pitied by the same cousin who worshipped the ground humans walked on!  
  
As I glared hatefully at the ship before me, a figure emerged from within.  
  
Prince Isacor-Isthelin-Aradron? the voice was hesitant, but sounded friendly enough. The Andalite stepped forward respectfully. He was fairly small and delicate, by our standards, though I suppose to a human he would be quite intimidating.  
  
I am.  
  
Welcome aboard. his eyes smiled as he used the human expression that somehow became integrated into our society when we were not looking. My name is Dendar-Tobaran-Lyrandil. I am your engineer. I sometimes wonder why we introduce ourselves using all three names. It can be terribly confusing sometimes, but I suppose it is the one tradition that hasn't been changed by human relations.  
  
Is this ship prepared for flight? I asked uncertainly, stepping nearer. To my horror, Dendar laughed.  
  
Hardly. The Oberon is nearly 40 years old! It should have been dismantled long ago. I don't know what the Captain is thinking, forcing us to leave so unprepared.  
  
I do. My spirits were sinking further. It seemed the one thing I had going for me was a decent crew...  
  
I stepped forward to enter the Oberon, and in my path was the tallest Andalite I had ever seen. His frame filled the entrance, and even standing still, he seemed to swagger with the arrogance common to all warriors. His sullen expression shifted to open contempt upon seeing me.  
  
Oh. Dendar appeared at my side again, and as small as he was, I felt safer with him there. The disgruntled warrior seemed to back down a bit, but he continued to glare at me coldly. This is Trentil-Kinnder-Eralith. He is your weapons officer. So much for crew; there was a psychopath in charge of weaponry. Dendar did not seem to be worried as he continued. Trentil, this is Prince Isacor-Isthelin-Aradron.  
  
Huh. he said disinterestedly, and without another glance, he left.  
  
You'll get used to him. Dendar said dismissively. He just has a problem with authority figures. Strangely enough, those words did little to ease my anxiety. How could such a little Andalite be so fearless? I glanced through the entrance, where Trentil had disappeared, anxiously before stepping into the ship. It wasn't difficult to imagine the weapons officer attacking me as soon as I left Dendar's company.  
  
Would you like me to show you around? Dendar asked from behind me.  
  
That would be helpful. I felt silly for feeling so nervous on my own ship.  
  
First, you ought to meet the last member of your crew. Dendar led me easily through the ship, and I stayed close, afraid of getting lost in the cramped passages. I say cramped only by Andalite standards, as five of us could easily stand side by side. Mirrors, another human invention we eagerly embraced, lined the walls to make them seem wider, but being a notoriously claustrophobic race, anything with walls on both sides is too small...  
  
She is in the sick bay, Dendar said, disappearing through a door to our left.  
  
She-? Before I could form a coherent sentence, she appeared before me, no more than a girl to my eyes.  
  
Prince Isacor-Isthelin-Aradron. she said brightly. I was beginning to hate my name at this point. Doctor Haieta-Esgridel-Karamoth. I am the ships physician.  
  
You? But... I could hear Dendar's private thoughtspeak in my head.  
  
Prince Isacor, do not-  
  
Is there a problem, my Prince? her thoughts had taken on an edge, as though she knew what I was going to say.  
  
I just didn't know that you would be-  
  
Female? She was glaring at me now, and Dendar seemed to sigh. I had the impression he'd heard this conversation before.  
  
-so young. I finished. How long have you been practicing medicine? She seemed to deflate a bit at that.  
  
This would be my first time in the field...but I'm every bit as qualified as a male! she hastened to add.  
  
I do not doubt your qualifications, but this is a dangerous mission. I need a doctor with experience.  
  
The Captain told me that there was nothing on this mission I could not handle.  
  
I sighed tiredly. A novice doctor on a mission into pirated Yeerk territory was as good as a death sentence. The Captain's actions could not be any clearer.  
  
Dendar seemed to have relaxed; in fact he was looking at me in undisguised amazement.  
  
How did you do that? he wondered privately to me. She had attacked every single one of us with that female line, and you were the only one who put her in her place! I wanted to explain to him that females didn't have 'places', but then I realized that would sound too much like I agreed with her, so I asked him to take me to the bridge instead. I had come to terms with my fate to die in space, in a ship no one wanted, possibly at the hands of my own weapons officer, and in the care of a novice woman doctor.  
  
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*another A/N* pretty please review for me? I don't know how often to update, cuz I want to give people time to read it, but if no one reviews, I don't know who's reading it. (ignore this DH, it doesn't apply to you.) *gives cookie for being best reviewer*


	4. Lost and Found

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born... There are none of the original Animorphs in this story. It is fifty years after the final battle, and a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*A/N*: as always, I must thank my wonderful reviewers!  
  
DarkMagicianGirl7-thanks for the review! It's good to know people are reading!  
  
Shiver-I had to work so hard to make the character quirks and profiles, and I'm glad they are believable. I strongly believe in fallible characters.  
  
DH-answers to your comments: 1.is the weapons officer a human hater? We'll see when they encounter humans, won't we? 2. Dendar=loyal side-kick. I never thought of that, but he really is, isn't he? 3. I can't wait to explore what I can do with the Oberon. I don't even know all it can do! 4. Alistair likes human things, and the Oberon is Andalites imitating humans, something he would probably scorn, like everyone else.  
  
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*~*~*Chapter four...in which the crew experience their first week together...  
  
I had anticipated problems in our departure, but the process was oddly smooth. Even the simplest missions were often tied up in red tape of some kind, and with the horror stories I had been told about artificial intelligence, I had expected to simply turn in circles until we were all dizzy, and then crash. When we were in open space, I managed to track Dendar down and question him. He was in the small dome that served as a grazing area. The grass was brown, the trees half dead, and I hoped that we would not starve to death before reaching our first checkpoint.  
  
Beyond the dome, there were the stars, and as I looked up at them, for a moment I could forget about where I was, who I was with, and where I had to go. I could feel utterly serene, and at that moment Dendar's thoughts broke through my own.  
  
Prince Isacor? We are cleared of the station ship.  
  
That went well. Was the ship on manual?  
  
Oh, no. I am surprised at the accuracy as well. It has been so long since anyone has flown her...I think she may be...excited. Her eagerness to be outside would account for the speed, at least.  
  
Can it be switched to manual? I was not entirely comfortable with an 'eager' ship at the helm, guiding us.  
  
Of course. Only... he hesitated, looking sheepish.  
  
What?  
  
Well, she won't tell me.  
  
WHAT?  
  
She has erased all record of it from her readable files. I think she is afraid that if we turn her off, we will not bring her back.  
  
That is ridiculous. She--it--is not capable of complex thought like that. I had read the files in the few hours I had before exit time. The Oberon's intelligence could best be compared to that of a young Hork-Bajir (or any Hork-Bajir, for that matter): aware, but stupid.  
  
"Hello." The greeting, although friendly, made me jump. Trentil, arriving at that moment, sullenly dragging each foot, did not help matters. He looked startled for an instant at the external voice, and then made a face.  
  
A talking ship. Perfect. I decided the best course of action would be to ignore my weapons officer and concentrate on this strange new presence.  
  
Hello. I was unsure as to the location of the voice, and so made my reply public, hoping I did not look like an idiot for seemingly talking to myself. Who is this?  
  
"I am the Oberon. I await your instruction, Prince Isacor."  
  
Our destination should be programmed already. Dendar said, puzzled. I did so yesterday.  
  
Maybe it forgot. Trentil muttered sarcastically. Dendar gave him a look with his stalk eyes, but kept his main ones on me, the only sign of respect I seemed to receive.  
  
"I cannot find a course. My data has been corrupted. There are no maps or star charts available."  
  
Wait, so we are flying blind right now? Visions of black holes, asteroids, and hostile, territorial races I had learned about in the academy raced through my mind.  
  
Oberon, begin mapping the area we are moving through. At least we will have some hope of finding our way back. Dendar's eyes narrowed in thought. I know there were charts last night. This was the kind of thing I had been expecting, and even though all arrows pointed to the leaders we left behind, I kept an open mind to the possibility that the Oberon, in her haste to erase the location of her turn-off switch, could have deleted one file too many.  
  
Well, we started out in the right direction, as far as I know. If we maintain this course and speed, hopefully we will make it to a supply post before we enter Yeerk territory. I told them. No one voiced the doubt that I am sure lurked in all of our minds: what if we don't find an outpost? What if we are stranded in pirated space?  
  
This means we cannot use Z-space! Trentil sounded genuinely alarmed. It will take weeks, maybe months, to reach the outpost!  
  
We should be thankful that we are this close. Most station ships have been withdrawn farther than ours. Dendar mediated.  
  
If I have to spend six months with that arrogant wench who calls herself a physician, I cannot be responsible for my actions! he glared at me as though this whole thing was my fault, which, to be honest, probably was.  
  
***  
  
Prince Isacor, may I speak with you?  
  
Again? Haieta, this is the fifth time since we left!  
  
Well, if you would do something about this...this harassment, then I would not have to bother you so often.  
  
To any ordinary Andalite listening in, our conversation would seem like the quarrels of crewmates who had been together for a few months too many. We had been away for one week. From the beginning, it has been a constant battle of wills, with my fragile sanity being pulled apart in the meantime.  
  
What did Trentil do this time? I asked tiredly. Dendar, not being one to make waves, was never the focus of these chronic complaints.  
  
He is being insufferable! she burst out angrily. I cannot endure it another moment! He has no respect for title or rank... she continued to describe the traits I was beginning to recognize all too well. As much as I sympathized with the young doctor, I did not see what I could do about it. This was the same way Trentil acted toward me, his superior, and I very much doubted that he would stop if I asked him. The only one he would listen to around here was Dendar, and so after I assured Haieta that I would look into matters, I told myself I would go and look for him, as was becoming a regular habit.  
  
I went to the dome, although I knew he would not be there. No one went there much anymore, since the vegetation had died completely a few days before, and the emergency rations had been distributed. It was the one spot I had guaranteed privacy from everyone.  
  
As my hooves thudded against the now grassless ground, I could hear the soft murmurings of the ship around me, and for the first time I realized how beautiful the Oberon was. Everything about her was sleek and nearly new, despite being shunned for 40 years. There had been rumors of a human architect who helped design her, and the evidence was visible everywhere, from the graceful archways that tended to be a little too short for Andalites, to a part of the ship apparently designed to be a food storage, preparation and delivery area, although Andalites have no use for these things. Even the landscaping of our unique vegetation is, or was, arranged like the gardens humans keep; the colorful grasses forming neat rows and curves around the trees. Down by a shallow ditch, which was originally a stream that ran through the dome, there are white flowers that float in the last puddle of water, clinging to life. There is nothing like this on the homeworld, and must have been slipped in unnoticed. I remembered vaguely how Alistair was telling me that these flowers were a sign of mourning when they were scattered upon the water like this, and as I watched them floating there, I could see why. They looked like bodies, no longer in control of their own movements, doomed to float there, forever...  
  
***flashback***  
  
I had been rooted to the spot in undisguised horror. This could no be happening. Not to me. Not to them.  
  
Override the safety! Get those weapons functional! Pilots, execute evasive maneuvers until weapons are on line! In my mind, I had imagined myself in a dangerous situation. I would be cool and collected, giving orders in a measured monotone. Nowhere in my fantasy had I envisioned the pacing, raving maniac I had become. I shouted and cursed at the stunned Andalites around me, wincing at each new explosion, new flash of color against the dark sky, each new scream that filled my head...  
  
***  
  
The Oberon, which had been traveling at a steady pace thus far, lurched without warning to a sudden stop. I was thrown sideways against a tree, sustaining a fair collection of scrapes from the rough, peeling bark, not to mention a full body bruise. If my ship had been a physical being, I might have killed her right then.  
  
"Prince Isacor."  
  
Yes? I snapped irritably. If I could not deal her a physical blow, I could at least display disapproval in my voice. It seemed to be lost on her, because she continued with barely a pause.  
  
"I have come to an outpost."  
  
Well, that is--wait. The nearest Andalite outpost is at least two weeks away. That cannot be right.  
  
"Prince Isacor," the Oberon sounded almost indignant. "I have come to something that fits the description of an outpost. Scans show advanced technology and signs of life. Would you please come to the bridge and identify it?"  
  
Technology and life forms. That could be any number of things, but who was I to complain, when our food supply was severely depleted and my crew devoted to driving me mad? I felt my spirits pick up as I hurried from the dome to the bridge.  
  
When I arrived, I found the others gathered already, each with varying degrees of injury from the sudden stop, looking as excited as I'd ever seen them.  
  
Very well, show me this outpost.  
  
A picture appeared on the screen before me, and for a moment, we were all silent. This most definitely was not an outpost.  
  
It...it's a planet. Haieta finally deadpanned. This computer cannot tell the difference between an outpost and a planet?  
  
That is not just a planet, Trentil said, his thought for once untouched by sarcasm, but rather by awe. I shared his emotion; my eyes remained glued to the surface of this world, barren save for a small cropping of mountainous trees. I knew it too, even as he said the words. This is the Hork-Bajir homeworld.  
  
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*A/N* wow, this is a long chapter for me! I write my stuff in an itty bitty notebook, so I really don't know how long anything is until I type it up. Okay, you've read this far, now you just gotta click that little button that says 'submit review.' You'll be glad you did!


	5. Discovery

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born...fifty years after the final battle, a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*A/N*: It has come to my attention that some people (namely, my sister) don't know how to pronounce Haieta's name. Phonetically, it goes [hi-ET-a]. All the vowels are syllables except for the first 'a'. There, that's cleared up now.  
  
DH- keep up the lengthy reviews! I look forward to reading them! In response to the last one: 1. The Oberon has developed a lot more than I expected, she originally was just going to be a nuisance, and now she has a personality! 2. Trentil and Haieta? Yikes! I don't really do the Disney thing, so don't worry about any hook-ups like that. *shiver* Trentil and Haieta as a couple, brrr! 3. The Hork-Bajir homeworld--all shall be explained in the following chapter, I hope. Have ships visited it before? I don't think many people are interested in it anymore, since it is pretty much abandoned-wait, I'm giving stuff away! Ack! Just read...  
  
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*~*~*Chapter 5...the crew go for a nice trip to the forest...  
  
The Hork-Bajir homeworld looked like a ghost, a shadow suspended in time. It was hard to believe that anyone would live there willingly.  
  
We all knew the stories, of course; they were practically legend at the academy. We knew about the virus, the brutal last resort to save a race by destroying it. Although driven off for a time, the Yeerks returned to take any natural resources they could find, and any Hork-Bajir who had survived. Attempts were made to use the planet as a base of operations, but its proximity to the edge of the empire made it unsuitable for anything but a labor camp and low-end factories.  
  
I asked the Oberon to pinpoint the location of the life-forms she had detected previously. At the second scan, she said that there was no sign of life.  
  
But, you said-!  
  
"At present, my readings indicate no life on this planet."  
  
That is absurd! Haieta exclaimed. You cannot have living things one minute and none the next!  
  
You are a doctor. Why don't you explain it to us? Trentil snapped at her. As they exchanged icy glares, I turned to the only one who would know anything worth listening to.  
  
Dendar, what do you think?  
  
I am trying to recall the type of scanner used in this ship. Forty years ago, it could have been a continuous wave system... he trailed off and became lost in his thoughts, so I had to prompt him.  
  
Which is?  
  
It...maps things. Keep in mind it was fairly primitive technology. This equipment, it would seem, can only scan a direct surface. The artificial intelligence must have certain shapes programmed into her database, and uses that to identify what it sees. It's possible that she recognized a biological entity, but if it is now, say, underground, then they would no longer register.  
  
What is the point of such a useless technology? If a ship were scanned then it would say that no one was aboard unless they were outside dancing on the roof!  
  
Trentil, there is no need to raise your voice here. The scanner is not generally used for detecting life forms. It was used mostly for surveillance, because it can make a detailed map of a surface, and based on that, can distinguish characteristics such as docking bay doors on a ship... I had started nodding off during the technical talk, getting the feeling I was back in the academy, listening to the instructors' droning speeches. When I heard the word 'doors,' I perked up again.  
  
So if, for example, there was someone who could not be detected, the Oberon could scan the surface for a...a door that could help us discover where they are?  
  
"Yes, I could." The ship answered eagerly.  
  
And how would she know it was a door? Haieta interjected skeptically, and before Dendar could speak, she continued. I know the theory, but I also know that her record so far has been less than perfect. And maybe you could tell me, Prince Isacor, why we would want to find these life forms in the first place? For all we know, they could be a band of Yeerks.  
  
Haieta, this is a chance you may never have again. How could you not want to explore the Hork-Bajir homeworld? From the look she gave me, it was clear she was not as excited about this landmark as I was, so I appealed to the physician in her. There could be people stranded down there, perhaps wounded. Would you just leave them without another glance? Her look softened, and I knew I had gotten through. Both Dendar and Trentil were talking privately to each other, and I could tell they must be laughing. The momentary silence was broken by the Oberon, with an announcement.  
  
"During this exchange, I have scanned the surface and have come up with 14,682 possible doors." She said brightly.  
  
***  
  
Let the record show that this was our brilliant leader's idea! Trentil said loudly. I wanted to tell him that he did not seem to have any objections earlier, but I only sighed heavily and tried to ignore him. Arguing with Trentil would accomplish nothing except giving Haieta some experience in fitting bone. At least he was referring to me a 'leader,' perhaps for lack of a better term.  
  
The Oberon had brought us down to the planet's surface after we decided to concentrate our efforts around the trees that still stood. The air was thick and old, but breathable, and the shadows of the trees lessened the intensity of the sun.  
  
The forest, I suppose it would be called, was completely devoid of any kind of creature. That was to be expected; the ship's scans had come out negative for any of the typical animals found here. The trees themselves were not only monstrously tall, but amazingly big around. The ones around the perimeter were only slightly thinner that the Oberon, which was nothing to sniff at. As we ventured deeper, the sun was blocked out completely, and the tops of the trees ceased to be visible as a haze of fog or cloud, I couldn't tell which, swirled around them and us.  
  
Maybe we should go back. Haieta was looking anxiously at the invisible path ahead.  
  
I have an open link to the Oberon, Dendar told her reassuringly. She can monitor us as long as we stay in the open.  
  
That makes me feel better. Haieta said, not reassured.  
  
You call this open? Trentil muttered as he carefully sidestepped another giant root that protruded from the ground. Ravines and cliffs had started appearing out of nowhere, it seemed as though we were entering a different world than that of the flat, treeless plains we had seen earlier. I tried to imagine the whole planet as one  
  
Abruptly, the forest, which had gradually closed in on our party until I wanted to scream, ended. At first I thought, with relief, that we had come out on the other side, but then I realized that it was only a clearing. The trees continued to protect this open area, although they were considerably thinner, and it took a while to notice the low-slung buildings surrounding the perimeter to one side. They were on the verge of collapse from disuse, but they seemed different from the factories we had passed on the plains. Why would the Yeerks bother to build anything this far in? What did they have here that they needed to hide?  
  
I approached the sturdiest of the lot, itching to take a look inside, while the others searched the rest of the clearing.  
  
Trentil, come with me please. Dendar, wait outside with Haieta. This would be my first time going somewhere with Trentil and not Dendar, and it did not sit well with me.  
  
Why him? Haieta argued. Why not one of us? Trentil took the opportunity to make another jab at the disgruntled doctor.  
  
You think he would take you? This is no job for a wench like you! You should have stayed on the ship with your medical textbook. he sneered, and Haieta raised her tail blade threateningly, which looked comical since Trentil could slice her in half if he wanted to. Before another bout of verbal, or physical, abuse could ensue, I added my own thoughts to the situation.  
  
If this is what I think it is, I will need his expertise. If anyone is injured, I will contact you. Haieta looked disgusted, but said no more.  
  
The broken windows allowed very little light inside, and I waited for my eyes to adjust before moving forward. Trentil brushed past me impatiently and began to examine the contents of the room.  
  
It looks like an ordinary factory. he grumbled.  
  
Well, it would, wouldn't it? The Yeerks are not that stupid. Whatever they have out here, we won't see it out in the open. It will have a secret entrance somewhere.  
  
How do you know? I looked at him sheepishly.  
  
I read it somewhere. As a child, I had been an avid reader of adventure stories, where an Andalite triumphed over the evil of the Yeerks, and it was this that prompted me to become a warrior. In the stories there were always hidden passages and rooms, and I tried to remember where they would be located. Trentil had a different method, called the 'break it and see if anything happens' method. Now, it is probably in the floor, and there could be some sort of switch that--  
  
Here! I swiveled my stalk eyes at Trentil's exclamation, and saw him standing smugly in front of a broken storage unit. Instead of shelves, there was a stairway that led down into even more darkness. I couldn't help but notice how narrow it was. You overestimate the Yeerks, my good Prince.  
  
So I have. We need a light... I began to say, but when I turned around, my crewmate had already disappeared. ...or we can go down completely unprepared. Hesitantly, I followed him. I figured if there was anything dangerous down there, Trentil would find it before I did, and would kill it or be eaten. Either way, he would make some noise.  
  
Surprisingly, the tunnel got lighter the further down I went, and by the time I stepped out into the cavern, I could see everything. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the light was coming from a number of yellow, vine- like plants that were growing up the walls.  
  
The next thing I noticed was the Kandrona, or what used to be one, covering part of the ceiling, with a pool directly below it. I had never seen a Yeerk pool before, but it was unmistakable. I could even see the empty cages that at one time must have held the host bodies while their Yeerks would bask in the Kandrona rays. The pool was completely empty, and the Kandrona smashed, so I figured the Yeerks had not been here in a while. I felt vaguely disappointed; here I was prepared for a top-secret facility that had remained undiscovered from even the Andalites, and all I found was a back-up Yeerk pool. Trentil would have a field day with this.  
  
I walked away from the Yeerk pool to the other end, hoping there was something more here than what I was seeing. Trentil's and my hooves made an unsettling clatter, and I knew that if anyone was here, they must have heard us by now. I expected the cavern to be completely deserted, so when I saw a dark shape suddenly jump out at me from behind a pile of boxes, it was all I could do to suppress the womanly scream I was ready to let loose. Instead I yelped, and in an instant Trentil was at my side, a shredder appearing as if by magic in each hand. The shape stopped abruptly, and now that the light was hitting it properly, I could see the reptilian-bird features of a Hork-Bajir.  
  
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*A/N* huh, that was a lot of words for not a lot of action. I usually don't do much description in my stories, so I may have gone overboard here. I'm gonna have to develop the crew's relationships with each other at some point here, I think...  
  
I'm starting to get paranoid (since I never get chapters out this fast) that these are not as good or refined as I want them to be. If you find something that just doesn't make sense, please tell me so I can fix it without being too embarrassed! :P


	6. Ran Tobir

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born...fifty years after the final battle, a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*A/N*: DH-I know, chapter five was hell to write, and I'm still not happy with it. It's pretty much just filler so I don't just jump into the next plot twist. I also know that I suck at the tech-talk, so from now on I'm gonna avoid it when I can. As for the scanner thing, I think heat sensing works on the same principle, where if someone is underground, the heat signature is hidden. I'm just gonna say that since their mission is to locate ships, the mapping technology is more important than heat scanning, so that is what the ship uses on everything (very illogical, is she not?)  
  
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*~*~*Chapter 6...Isacor introduces dysfunctionality to a Hork-Bajir...  
  
The Hork-Bajir seemed stunned by Trentil's show of aggression, and for a minute he simply stood there, watching us in confusion. Then a light seemed to click on, and he started to speak earnestly in his native tongue, and when the translator chips in our heads finally began working, we caught only the tail end of his speech. From the sound of it, we did not miss much.  
  
"-when they leave I am alone, but not now, because you are here. You come for Ran Tobir! Mother sky sends ship from above with no bad Yeerks, only good Andalite with scary weapon." His words came out in a jumble, head bobbing up and down excitedly, and he sounded so cheerful that I almost laughed.  
  
How long have you been here, Hork-Bajir? I asked. This was my first time talking to a one, and it felt strange to converse with a creature I would normally open fire on, no questions asked. The Hork-Bajir, Ran Tobir, had to think about the question for a while before he answered it.  
  
"Late-cool, Yeerks leave. Ran Tobir stay. I free Hork-Bajir. I go with Andalite now?" he looked hopefully at the two of us.  
  
We cannot just take him aboard. Trentil told me, weapons still trained on the alien. He has given us no evidence to trust him, except that flimsy story. Even if he is telling the truth, he would serve no purpose except to consume the rest of our food! He had a point. We were running perilously low on supplies, and with the absence of any known outpost, we could not afford another mouth to feed. Ran perked up.  
  
"I get food. I make food for Andalite, when I see ship in sky. I get." With that, he disappeared, and Trentil lowered the shredders in disgust.  
  
He is no Controller. Even Yeerks wouldn't go that far.  
  
After a lot of banging and crashing, Ran returned and placed two large, shallow bowls in of suspicious greenish glop in front of us. Then he looked up expectantly. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, but somewhat fearful of this 'food,' I carefully placed the tip of my hoof in the mash. Trentil looked on with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion as I tasted it.  
  
This...this is good! I exclaimed in surprise. Even if we do not have a human sense of taste, we have our own standards for the type of food we eat. Whatever this was, it made our pathetic emergency rations seem like mud. Even the station ship had nothing to compare to it.  
  
"Yes." Ran said matter-of-factly. "I make good food for friend Andalite. I go on ship now?" I looked over with my stalk eyes at Trentil, who had just put his hoof in experimentally. From his expression, I could tell we were thinking the same thing.  
  
***  
  
Dendar and Haieta were more than a little surprised to see us, not only from the Hork-Bajir in tow, but also because of the large bundles of bark and leaves we carried on our backs.  
  
Ask me later, I told them as we started up the trail, into the trees. Only know that we are carrying your future meals on our backs. They both looked skeptical, but were distracted from further questions by our new Hork-Bajir companion.  
  
"More friend Andalite!" Ran exclaimed happily when he saw them. He took particular interest in Haieta because of her purple fur and smaller tail blade. I didn't feel like explaining the differences between male and female Andalites; I knew it would set Haieta off on one of her rants about gender equality, which would only confuse the poor Hork-Bajir.  
  
As we made our way up the trail we'd come from, Ran took to the trees, carrying a large sack. From time to time he would stop and use his formidable blades to tear off some bark or leaves. He would also talk to us, the words echoing deep into the canyon, and while most of the time it was gibberish, there was occasionally something worth listening to.  
  
"Trees too big now." he commented once while ripping a large section of bark.  
  
What do you mean? The trees here were supposed to be big, weren't they? That's what they are known for.  
  
"Hork-Bajir care for trees. Take bark to eat so trees not big this way." He spread his arms horizontally, while anchoring himself to the tree with his feet. "Now is no room for trees," he motioned to the narrow trail we were on, and with the excessive use of his hands, I was reminded suddenly of Alistair's many hand gestures. Did this mean I was homesick? "Will all die now." It was the first time I'd heard him sound so unhappy, and I almost immediately forgot about my own worries, pathetic by comparison.  
  
I am sorry. I said sympathetically. Ran smiled, which was profoundly unsettling, and swung away through the trees, the bark added to his growing collection.  
  
It really is a dying planet, Haieta murmured softly. I looked at the trees again, tragic heroes that, no matter how strong, would eventually fall.  
  
Everything dies, Trentil said bitterly. There's no use in becoming emotional about it.  
  
You had a very sad childhood, didn't you? The moment of reverence was broken as my crewmates prepared for another round of squabbling.  
  
My life is no concern of yours, wench!  
  
Will you stop calling me that? It's an outdated human expression. Do you see what I have to put up with every day, Prince Isacor?  
  
Keep me out of this, please. I quickened my pace, hoping to leave them behind, the trees now completely forgotten.  
  
Yes, go running to your prince now! Trentil mimicked Haieta's voice. Oh, Prince Isacor, Trentil's being mean to me. Make him stop, because I am so weak and helpless!  
  
Ran Tobir had stopped to look back at us, curious as to what all the commotion was about. I wondered what he thought of his Andalite heroes now, watching them succumb to such base emotions, but to my surprise, he laughed. I'd never heard a Hork-Bajir laugh before, and I was not sure I wanted to hear it again. When he spoke again it was to tell about how several Hork-Bajir had been so argumentative that the Yeerks had started keeping them in separate rooms when they fed. The story was supposed to be humorous, but I found it depressing to think about someone being isolated when they were not controlled. I tried to explain this to Ran, who in turn kept trying to explain the joke to me, and when we reached our ship, still waiting patiently at the edge of the forest, we both gave up, each believing the other was crazy.  
  
Almost immediately upon entering, the Oberon went into an alert mode. Despite the week I had spent here, I still could not tell if she was trying to get attention, or if something was genuinely wrong.  
  
Oberon, report this alert, please. And turn off that NOISE! my hands made a weak attempt to cover my ears. The shrill howling of the siren was silenced abruptly, and I could feel the collective sigh of relief.  
  
"Prince Isacor," she said unnecessarily, and I saw Ran looking around for the source of this new voice. "There is an unidentified Hork-Bajir aboard."  
  
Yes, we know that. He is a new member of the crew.  
  
"All new crew members are to pass through station protocol before they are acknowledged." She said snippily, sounding as though she was quoting from a rulebook.  
  
I am overriding that. Enter this data into your files, so we don't have to listen to this awful sound again. His name is Ran Tobir, his position is... I tried to think of what the proper title would be. Trentil answered for me.  
  
Cook.  
  
Yes, that's it. I believe that is all you need. Suddenly, Ran seemed to be enveloped in a greenish glow, which quickly faded, but the poor Hork- Bajir looked ready to bolt.  
  
"Hork-Bajir identified as Ran Tobir. Hello." Her voice became pleasant as she greeted him in much the same way she had greeted us. Ran was terrified, but managed a small "hello" back.  
  
I that all the alert was about? Trentil asked.  
  
"Yes." The Oberon said matter-of-factly. "There was an internal breach in security. It had to be addressed."  
  
All right, I allowed. But why don't we- I had not even completed my thought before the siren began shrieking again. Turn that OFF! I shouted, and she complied. I thought we settled the unidentified Hork-Bajir nonsense.  
  
"There is no unidentified Hork-Bajir," she said, making it sound like I was the stupid one. "A ship is approaching the planet in an aggressive manner. They appear to be about to attack." My mind went numb, as it did in every battle, it seemed, but my body was able to recall every practice, every maneuver a ship could do, and that part of me took over then.  
  
Oberon, get us off the ground. Let them deal with a moving target. The rest of you, get to your stations. If they fire on us, Trentil, return it, but do NOT initiate. Dendar, be ready to reroute power of we are hit. Haieta, take Ran to the sick bay. You just might get a chance to put your medical theory to the test. For once, there were no arguments; each went silently to their positions as the Oberon broke through the atmosphere and returned once again to the darkness of space. I asked her to give me a visual of the craft, and in a moment was face to face with one of the most hideous sights I had ever seen.


	7. Enemies

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born...fifty years after the final battle, a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*A/N*:DH-Yeah, I love Ran. And the Oberon, for that matter. The Yeerks technically still hold the Hork-Bajir homeworld, but no one has been on it for a reeeeaaally long time, cuz of the whole empire collapse thing. I don't have a specific explanation for the virus thing, but you'd think after 100 years, it would either have died out or there would be some sort of vaccination...The Yeerks have technology too. I have to admit that making Ran the cook was inspired by Neelix, the funky alien cook guy on Star Trek: Voyager. At least, that's who he reminds me of, kinda.  
  
Shorty Baby Cheeks-I tried that, but it thinks it's an html code, so it just deletes the dialogue I have in there. *growl* oh, well, the asterisks are working out for now.  
  
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*~*~*Chapter 7...Isacor displays his leader skills...not that anyone appreciates it...  
  
Our adversary was like nothing I'd ever seen before. The angular mass of twisted metal appeared to be pieces of different kinds of ships patched half-hazardly into one enormous one. It was unrecognizable, even as a Yeerk vessel, and the strangest thing was, it seemed to be ignoring us, focusing its attention on the planet we had just left. What could only be described as energy seemed to gather at the front, and I braced myself for the inevitable explosion of its target, whatever it was, and the shock wave that was sure to follow. None of these things happened. A faint ripple distorted the unbroken web of stars for an instant, and the next thing I knew, the last standing grove of trees had vanished, a great crater left in its place.  
  
Trentil, here is where your weapons knowledge comes in, I told him, once the utter shock had subsided.  
  
I- for once he was at a loss for words. I have never seen this before. He admitted finally. The weapons know-all, stumped? In my effort to get to know Trentil without actually talking to him, I had found out more than I ever wanted to know. Countless charges of insubordination and assault had gotten him removed from his post in Weapons Technologies, and now was being shunted from suicide mission to suicide mission, in hopes that one of them would finish him off. Somehow, even when the rest of his crewmates were little more than particles floating in a vacuum, Trentil managed to return.  
  
What interested me were the comments on his performance before he was ousted. He had been somewhat of a weapons guru, as Alistair would say (it was disturbing how much of him had rubbed off on me), spending most of his time in research, a fact that surprised me. I wouldn't think of Trentil, the same one who derived sadistic pleasure from tormenting Haieta, and challenged me openly whenever he could, as a bookish type. I suppose even violent maniacs have their hobbies.  
  
So when Trentil admitted defeat, I knew we were in over our heads in something we knew nothing about. The brutish giant of a ship, oddly graceful despite its size, was turning to face us now, and if it could have made an expression, I imagine it would be a confidant sneer. So far, there had been no contact from the ship, not even to gloat, which made me doubt that it was the Yeerks. They seemed to have a penchant for that kind of thing, dragging what could have taken seconds into minutes.  
  
Open a line of communication. I ordered the Oberon. Maybe reason could appeal to them, if they were not Yeerks.  
  
"They do not respond. All lines are closed." So much for reason. I saw the energy gathering again, and without thinking, gave the order I had given a thousand times in drills and conventional battles, one that would change everything.  
  
Make a z-space jump.  
  
"But Pri-"  
  
DO IT! I was near hysterics as it was, and the ship's hesitation pushed me over the edge. I could see the ripple, almost in slow motion, the one that would make us disappear with not even so much as a crater to prove we'd once existed...  
  
Then, there was nothing. The screen in front of me went completely white, and for an instant I wondered whether we'd made it, or if I was dead. The moment was brief; Trentil's harsh thoughts made me painfully aware that I was alive.  
  
Well, that was brilliant. I was about to annihilate that (Andalite expletive), and here you decide to get us lost in z-space instead!  
  
"Trentil is wrong, Prince Isacor. I calculate that by the time his shot would have hit, our opponent would have destroyed me."  
  
It is a good thing Prince Isacor made the decision, and not you, Haieta said scornfully.  
  
Easy to say when all you do is sit in sick bay doing NOTHING. Trentil shot back. They were at it again? We had just survived a near-death experience that still had my knees quivering, and they were back at each other's throats.  
  
Will you two please stop? Dendar's thoughts were quiet, but had an immediate effect. Why couldn't I do that? We have to figure out what to do next.  
  
What does it matter? We have lost our position, so we cannot exit z-space at a safe point. Our wonderful Prince made sure of that. Trentil had a point, hidden in amongst the sarcasm. To move through z-space, one must enter coordinates of the destination ahead of time, to ensure they made it there. To go blindly into it was dangerous; upon exit you could find yourself inside a planet or a star. I sighed.  
  
The safest thing for now is to stay in z-space, where we can avoid being tracked by that...thing. In, say, two hours, we can exit and make a jump back to familiar territory.  
  
Assuming we are not incinerated in a star, Trentil pointed out, voicing all of our concerns.  
  
Yes, assuming, I said distractedly. Something, well, a lot of things actually, were still bothering me about our encounter. It was hardly random; they must have been sent to destroy something, with us as an afterthought. I thought of the stand of trees. That meant there had been something there, just as I'd suspected. Something someone was willing to destroy rather than risk exposure. And the only remaining connection between us and it was...  
  
Haieta, bring Ran Tobir to the bridge, please. The Hork-Bajir was going to have some explaining to do.


	8. Into Darkness

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  


Author: weetzybat  
  


Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  


Description: After it all ended, a new world was born...fifty years after the final battle, a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  


*A/N*: Alright! Finally I can type thoughtspeech! Thanks Myst4! *hugs* Oh, and I have some reviewers comments to analyze:

DH- Ooo, I love NG too! But somehow I didn't see a Whoopi Golberg character as the cook. The mystery ship...stealing trees? Where is that in the story? *looks over story* oh, the trees were destroyed, completely vaporized. I don't think the Yeerks would be much into conservation. The One? Is that in the series? Cuz I haven't read the last 10 or 15 books, because they just got so bad...I think I read the last few pages of the last book, just to see the ending. As for seeing the other Animorphs, it may not be as impossible as you think... *smacks forehead* must stop giving things away!

Myst4- Yay! I get to explain Isacor's prince-ness! Okay, he is a very idealistic Andalite, and thinks that warriors should be noble and brave and all that. He is like that, ideally, and so could easily rise through the lower ranks to become prince. The higher up he gets, the more corruption he sees, and it makes him sad, although he still strives to be what he believes in. Did any of that make sense? So anyway, thank you so much for taking an interest in my story (even though it is fairly long now-8 chapters Wow!) and keep reviewing! I love reviews!

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*~*~*Chapter 8...an explanation to begin...tension throughout...and silence in the end...

After questioning Ran Tobir, I retreated to the abandoned dome to mull over what he had said.

There had been no argument, no need to interrogate him; he'd answered all of our questions in his simple Hork-Bajir speech. From what I could gather, the factories outside the forest had been a front for the secret collection of buildings in the clearing. They had produced menial things not even worth the notice of the Andalite fleet, although they kept loose tabs on the production. The Yeerks had plans for developing weapons technology that would rival that of the Andalites. It was brilliant, really. The transport ships for the factories were not likely to be attacked if they came from the Hork-Bajir homeworld, because it was not worth the energy or the resources. Using this reputation, they were free to do what they wished with little chance of getting caught. There was only one problem. For years, Ran said, they had come up with nothing, gradually becoming frustrated with the whole operation. They were about to give up on it entirely, when something happened; something big.

What? What happened? A breakthrough? I had asked him. Ran simply shook his head. His Yeerk had not been high-ranking, and was not informed. All he knew was that they suddenly shut everything down, loaded up the transports, and left, leaving a few "security personnel" behind. Ran was included in this group, and at this point he stopped, feeling he had told the whole story. As curious as I was to find out how he had freed himself, I decided that now was not the best time to ask.

Why did you not tell us this before? Trentil was understandably angry, we had walked right by a top-secret weapons research center without blinking.

"Andalite did not ask." I could tell this answer did not satisfy my weapons officer, and he was about to light into Ran again, when I jumped in with my own thoughts.

Think about it though. If we had found something there, we would have stayed in that clearing and suffered the same fate as the trees. That made him stop and think for a moment on something I had already figured out; it had really been pure luck that made us come out when we did. Even if Dendar had been warned by the Oberon ahead of time, we would not have made it out of the forest alive.

Rather that linger on the experience, I chose instead to recall the few glorious moments when I had truly felt like the leader I was meant to be. My crew had been obedient and responsive to my orders. Even Trentil had not taken matters into his own hands as I expected him to, and the Oberon had not pulled any more of her idiotic stunts. Of course, three seconds later I was back to the bottom of the pecking order, but for that short time, it had felt: nice. Normal even, which was something this crew had been lacking from the start. 

Now my worries were concentrated on the jump from the whiteness of z-space back to the dark. Somehow, the longer I thought on it, the more backwards it seemed, heading away from the light into darkness. This revelation did nothing to ease my growing nervousness, and I knew I would need every second of the half-hour I had left to prepare myself.

A rustling above my head distracted me from my brooding, and I swiveled my stalk eyes to find Ran Tobir perched in one of the dead trees.

"Why friend Andalite here? Is no food." He twisted his long neck to look at his surroundings to make sure, and then back at me.

My name is Prince Isacor. You do not have to call me Andalite. There was an awkward pause. What do you say to someone who has just lost the last remnants of his home? I am sorry. Oh, brilliant Isacor. Your sensitivity amazes me. Ran simply studied me quizzically, and I realized that he did not have the faintest idea what I was talking about. About your home, and the trees. He suddenly looked guilty, and even as I wondered about this strange behavior, a thought crossed my mind.

Why are you here? For a moment, he looked ready to lie, but instead he lowered his head and held out his hand. In his outstretched palm, I saw a handful of small pods.

"Trees not all gone. Ran plant here and they grow." There was a sinking feeling in my chest as I pictured the Hork-Bajir trees growing in the small dome.

But...everything here is dead! They cannot grow without water, and even if they did, what would happen when they grew too big?

"Dendar fix water!" Ran said cheerfully, ignoring my last question altogether. Sure enough, a steady trickle I had not noticed before worked its way across the dome.

Perhaps I should have said something, told him that it would not work, but when you are up close to a Hork-Bajir, and can see the excitement you wish you could feel, all reason disappears. I left him there with his trees that, if they survived, would become yet another source of aggravation. Surprisingly, as I returned to my fretting in my cabin, I was not upset to lose my hiding spot. If Ran could make things grow again, even monster trees, it would be the end of my privacy forever; yet somehow it did not matter so much anymore. I had proved something to myself, with those few precious minutes of battle. Perhaps there was still hope for this mission yet.

Once we were out of z-space, we would have to return to the Hork-Bajir homeworld, or another point on our miniscule map. Our only consolation was that the ship we were running from could not track us through z-space.

"Prince Isacor, the two hours you requested are nearly up." The Oberon informed me, relentlessly perky as always.

Very well. I will be at the bridge shortly.

The path from my cabin to the bridge extended in front of me, more forbidding than usual. The crew was assembled, and as I entered, I could see the worry written plainly in their eyes. Ran was the only one who seemed unconcerned; the only one with unconditional trust in me. I suddenly envied the Hork-Bajir, with their simple minds that could put their faith in something so completely.

I faced the white screen and pushed all uncertainty from my thoughts. There could be no hesitation. No second chance.

Oberon, take us out of z-space. There was no use in delaying it-the sooner it was over with, the better.

"Yes, Prince Isacor." Everyone tensed, prepared for the worst.

The screen flashed once, and then the now-familiar blanket of darkness flecked with white appeared. I wanted to collapse on the ground and thank whatever gods or luck had prevailed, but I managed to look calm and slightly smug, as I had seen other captains do.

Without warning, the Oberon lurched, nearly toppling us. The ship shuddered violently, and for a moment I thought she would come apart at the seams. This was different than her sudden stop for the Hork-Bajir homeworld. The screech began again.

No siren! I yelled. What just happened?

"We have been attacked from behind. A ship has exited z-space and fired on us. I am performing evasive maneuvers." A ship?

Can't you take us back into z-space?

"That system has been disabled." I immediately looked to Dendar, who needed no instruction; he broke into a run towards his post in engineering. The others followed suit. The Oberon was now facing our attacker, and the familiar halfhazard assortment of ship parts sent a chill right through me. It could not be the same one. We were in z-space, untraceable. It cannot be done...

Well, Prince Isacor? Trentil asked expectantly. For a moment I was not sure it was him; it was the first time he had referred to me as Prince, and actually meant it.

Open fire. With these words, it was as though I'd unleashed something wild, something dangerous. Before I could blink, Trentil had let loose a constant barrage of fire that seemed to last forever. The other ship; the same one I thought we had left behind, faltered, surprised at the viciousness of the retaliation. As we momentarily gained the upper hand, I turned my attention to our own damages.

Dendar, what does it look like?

A mess! A whole section of the ship is gone! If the Oberon had not moved when she had... he did not bother to finish his own thought; we both knew what would have happened. It is very unstable right now. The core computer was hit, and if it is not repaired soon, the whole AI system will shut down. With us not able to switch to manual control, that meant the ship would cease to function, and so far I did not see any lasting damage to the other ship. Trentil seemed frustrated.

There must be a shield. I cannot hit them directly! he fumed.

"Prince Isacor. I must warn you that my circuits are currently overloaded. Attempting repairs now could carry serious risk."

Dendar, stop what you are doing! It is not safe!

But I just need to--

NO! Get out of there NOW! There was a change in the image on my screen; the ship was slowly turning towards us, energy gathering, ready to finish us off for the second time.

There it is! I know how to get them! Trentil's thoughts bordered on the insane, and I half expected and evil giggle of some kind to accompany them.

If I can switch the current...

Dendar, what are you still doing there?

"Prince Isacor, I must shut down or risk deletion."

It's just a little longer. Stay with us, Oberon.

Come on, a little more... Trentil was muttering.

I almost have it-

DENDAR!

Three things happened at once. Trentil fired into the ball of energy, and it seemed to freeze for a moment, then shatter, expanding outwards, breaking its own ship apart in the process to scatter into the dark. An instant later, the Oberon shut down completely.

And Dendar was silent.


	9. The Sound of Silence

Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga (yeah, crappy title. Good one comes w/finished story.)  
  
Author: weetzybat  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Animorphs. I think that about covers it. Although I did make nearly all the characters involved. That was fun.  
  
Description: After it all ended, a new world was born...fifty years after the final battle, a new set of characters are ready to take to the sky.  
  
*A/N*: Thank you to all reviewers! You are what keep me going! And now for your personal notes...

DH-I knew I'd heard that line somewhere! As soon as I wrote it (which, ironically, was right after we got the new Two Towers DVD) I thought "I've heard that somewhere before." But yes, I am a LOTR fan, and am so happy because all the movies so far have come out on or around my birthday. But back to Animorphs... the last chapter was kind of a boy's chapter, with the fighting and stuff, and Haieta would really not have much to do so long as there were no injuries. Ran is absent a lot too, for the same reason. As for the time thing...I'm thinking that Isacor really does know what time it is, he just wants to stall, but the Oberon won't let him. I am so glad that I could get Trentil doing what he does best--shooting people! Now I have to get Haieta doing some doctor stuff... the Oberon? Deleted? Never! She shall be brought back, eventually, in all her glory. But by whom?

Sam-thanks for the compliment, and you read the whole story in one day? Is it really that short? Must remedy that...*grin* I will be sure to keep you in the loop as far as updates, because I live for you readers! I was so afraid that no one would read my story, and it makes me so happy that people like it.

All right, onward, upward, and outward!

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*~*~*Chapter 9...Haieta's first 'medical examination'...and the saddest chapter I have had to write...

For a moment I thought we were the ones who had shattered into the endless night. It was deadly quiet, with not even the hum of the Oberon to break the silence. It seemed like everything had stopped.

Oberon, please report the status of the ship, I asked, knowing there would be no answer. It was a stall tactic, I was afraid to ask for the only one who would have the answers. For once, I did not want to know the truth. Dendar, I paused to control the quaver I knew had crept into my thoughts. Dendar, please report the status of the ship. No reply. Something inside me knew why; deep down, I knew what had happened, but I shoved it quickly away. Haieta?

Yes, Prince Isacor?

Report to engineering. This was just a precaution. He was only knocked unconscious from the shock wave that had hit us when our attacker had exploded. There is nothing wrong...

Oh, no. What happened?

JUST, I was about to yell at her, but I forced myself to calm down. I had to keep my thoughts even and neutral. I could not let her know how tired I was, of fighting; of worrying. just...go.

I must have betrayed something in my thoughts, because Haieta was waiting outside the door when I arrived, eyes wide and frightened. I should have reassured her, told her she was acting like an aristh, but the lies would not come, and I looked away instead.

The next moment, Trentil galloped toward us.

Did you see that ship explode? Sheer brilliance, if you ask me. Why is it so dark? When the Oberon shut down, so did all systems, including the lighting. Trentil was probably too wrapped up in his own psychopathic world that he had not noticed at first. The pride in his face from his accomplishment turned to curiosity, and when he saw our expressions, worry. He slowly glanced from our faces to the door, gradually making the connection.

What happened? His thoughts became low and dangerous, a far cry from the giddy elation from before. I was reminded again about how big an Andalite he was. Dendar?

The door will not open, Haieta said quickly, in an attempt to distract him. In one fluid motion Trentil's tail whipped around, wedging the blade into the crack in the door. Faster than I could blink, he'd pulled downward sharply, smashing the locking mechanism. Haieta jumped as the doors sprang open.

A trick I learned on the Centurion. he explained. I tried to remember where I had heard the name, and couldn't, so I assumed it had been another one of Trentil's suicide missions.

Normally, engineering was the loudest and busiest looking place on the ship. There were always scans going on something, patches for the Oberon's many programs, and odd noises that sounded like creatures from our homeworld, but were really just part of the system. Now everything was stopped, and it was so dark that we needed an extra artificial lantern to see properly. The light was erratic, and shadows danced across the floor as we moved. Trentil pushed to the front, frantically searching for his friend.

From the way he suddenly froze in the middle of a step, I knew he had found him.

Dendar? the question was soft, hesitant, completely the opposite of everything I had known Trentil to be. I did not have to hear the silence that served as an answer; my worst fears had been confirmed.

Haieta and I came up on either side of him. With the full impact of the lanterns, we could see Dendar clearly. There were no missing limbs, no garish wounds. He might well have been sleeping if his eyes had not been wide and unblinking, staring at nothing at all.

Haieta backed away slightly and averted her gaze. The only exposure she'd had to death was within the controlled setting of a classroom, not in the middle of nowhere, and certainly not with anyone she knew.

Haieta, I got her attention, willing my voice to remain strong; betraying none of the uncertainty, sorrow, and guilt that I felt. I tried not to think that only a few hours before, we had been headed to an outpost somewhere in the vastness of space, with our only worries being a ship who destroyed maps and terrible emergency rations.

No. Her eyes were still fixed on a point somewhere, anywhere but on Dendar. She knew what I wanted her to do.

It is your job.

No, this time it was Trentil, but from the look of it he had not heard one word of our conversation. He was stepping forward, away from us and towards the body. That was all it was now, a body. Dendar was gone.

Prince Isacor, do not make me do this.

Haieta, if you are incapable of performing an autopsy under orders, then you are of no use to me as a doctor, or a member of this crew. She stared at me as though seeing me for the first time.

How can you stand there and say that? Dendar, your FRIEND, is dead, and you are acting like the captain. I faltered for a moment at the horrible suggestion, and then narrowed my eyes.

Will you do your job? I asked icily.

Yes, Prince Isacor. She sounded like Trentil then, practically spitting the word 'prince,' then seemed to retreat within herself, resigned to the task. I wondered if I had lost the fragile control I held over them; that Dendar held over them, actually. The little Andalite had kept the peace and balance, and now that he was gone, what would become of us?

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*A/N* Okay, I have a good explanation as to why Dendar died. A really, really good one. Well, not a really good one, but here it is: that was what his character was meant to do from the beginning. *ducks the flying debris* Hey, let me explain! That is why he is the most perfect of all the crew, because I knew he would not be around very long. Little did I know how attached I would become to him, and now I am very sad...*sniff* but he has to stay dead. If anyone knows the Andalite death rites, could you tell me so I can give him a proper send-off? You can even make them up, I won't know the difference if they sound plausible. Do Andalites cry? That has been bugging me a lot lately, so if anyone knows, please tell me!

Also, there may be those wondering why the Oberon is not mentioned much, other than to say she is broken. I thought that might take away from Dendar if I talked too much about her, so she will be mourned in the next chapter. After this, it gets lighter, I promise...

This is the last note! Trentil mentions the Centurion, which is kind of a private joke. That was the name I was first going to give to the Oberon, and I had to choose the one I wanted, so I figured I could give the other a cameo. ;)


	10. Revealed

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
**Author:** weetzybat  
**Disclaimer:** What? Can't I just claim my little world? No? Ok, fine, I don't own KA's universe. But I DO own my characters, just not their species. I can't win, can I?  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
***A/N***: Oh, goody, more reviews! So exciting! Here I go!

DH-Yeah, Haieta does the autopsy, cuz Isacor basically threatened her with her job (not very like our meek little captain, is it?). Trentil is acting normal because he has just lost his best friend, and really doesn't know what to do. He gets meaner again, you'll see. I'm glad Isacor is written well. He's trying to keep his crew together, and it really takes a toll on him. He feels he can't grieve or anything because that will show his weakness to the others. Poor guy. Don't worry about the rites. I'll figure out something...

Tokoyo-hey! Good to hear from you again! Ya know, there was a brief instance where I considered not killing him (Dendar), cuz I love him soooooo much! But that really would conflict with the rest of the story (I have a bare bones outline for what happens throughout the whole thing) so I made a tough choice. Waaaa! Thank you for the info on the crying bit, I didn't think they could, but it doesn't hurt to make sure. I could probably look these questions up myself, but I am lazy, and it makes people review more! *grin*

Myst4-I sent you an email answering all yer questions, so there ya are.

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*~*~*Chapter 10...where are we now, and where will we be?...

It remained unspoken, but I had lost two crew members that day. While not technically a "person", the Oberon had somehow managed to assert herself into our lives, becoming more than just a faulty program designed to run the ship. Losing her made me forget all of the stupid things she had done up to this point. Almost. Thanks to her, I no longer remembered what it was like to control a ship manually, but the frightening thing was that it seemed normal. Even now I found myself talking to the empty air, assuming she would be there. Without her to take out our frustrations, Trentil, Haieta and I began to turn on each other. At the time when we had to stay together, stay strong, we were never more divided. I was amazed at how quickly Trentil's mood changed from audible grief, to stony silence, to rage bordering violence, all within a few hours. I witnessed this firsthand when I had gone to his room soon after the battle to see if he was all right.

Do you want to talk? I asked, feeling my role slipping from Prince to psychologist. He said nothing. You cannot keep this inside you. It will only make you crazy. Crazier, I amended as he glared at me, stating clearly without words that if I continued to push it, I would be on the receiving end of said 'crazy.'

Haieta had retreated to her quarters after the autopsy was performed, without giving me the results. The only one allowed to see her was Ran Tobir when he brought his strange nutritious food. She still shunned the two of us; Trentil out of fear, and me out of disgust. I could not say I blamed her.

Several days passed where we avoided all contact with each other. Finally, I decided that it had to stop. If we were going to be a functioning crew, we had to stop acting like pouting arisths and grow up. So, with hearts pounding, I visited Trentil's quarters yet again.

If you are here to talk, you can leave right now. His voice startled me, and for a moment I considered heeding his advice. Then, gripping the last remnants of my courage, which had been gradually deserting me as I approached, I answered him.

Trentil, we have to pull ourselves together. The ships air supply is depleted, and we have to do something. The doors to the cabin slid open with a dangerous hiss.

When will you realize that this mission is over? Stop acting like you care what happens to us, because none of it matters anymore. The Captain finally got what he wanted. The bitterness I heard in his thoughts was not directed at me, but at some other commander from long before the Oberon. He knew me well enough to know that I was on his side. If it were at any other time I might have felt sorry for what he must have gone through at the mercy of the system I had only recently discovered. Even so, his words shook something deep within me, and maybe it was the latent leader that took over then, because I did something I never in my life thought I would do. I stepped forward until I was less than a foot away from his snarling face. I had put up with his disrespect and pessimism up to this point, but this had taken it too for. Our lives were at stake here, and that was something I would not give up without a fight.

This mission is NOT over. You are a part of this crew and will be so until I say otherwise, and as such, you have a duty to this ship. Am I clear? He must have been as surprised as I was, because there was no retort, and I quickly backed away before he could recover. Now go and get Haieta from her quarters. That got me a dirty look, and he pushed past me roughly to follow the order. This was good. The best way to get Trentil back to normal (well, what was normal for him) was to let him incite a nice round of verbal abuse with Haieta.

***

Prince Isacor, if you send that heathen after me again, I will report you! Haieta stormed the bridge a few minutes later, trembling with fury. I thought you would be different, but you are just like the rest of those bureaucratic—are you even listening?

When you are finished insulting me, I thought we might concentrate of the more imminent problem of life support. I offered, bracing myself for another slew of feminist misgivings. Instead, she looked thoughtful, and had nothing more to say. Trentil arrived a moment later, Ran Tobir tagging behind.

"Trees will die," he was saying sadly. "Is no water now." Trees were the least of our worries at this point, but I could not help but feel sorry for him. I faced them all and searched for whatever emotion had allowed me to stand up to Trentil, only to be disappointed. I spoke in a rush, hoping no one would notice my lack of confidence.

I know the past few days have been hard on all of us. Oh, wonderful Isacor. That was the best you could come up with? I am going to ask you for the hardest thing you will ever do. I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. I need you to be a crew. This means no distractions, nothing that can slow you down. Trentil's gaze was fierce, and he must have known what I was about to say. I need you to forget Dendar. The reaction was swift and harsh, but not from the person I expected.

What?! Just like that? We pretend that he never existed, after all he has done for us, for this ship, for you... Haieta had that look again, the one she gave me when I asked her to do the autopsy.

If we do not get this ship running, we are all going to die. I need everyone at their full potential, and it will not happen with his shadow hanging over us--

He is right. Time stood still, and we all turned our heads in surprise to look at Trentil. His face had become a mask. We cannot afford to dwell in the past. There will be time enough for rites after we are out of harms way. No one could think of what to say. The last thing I had expected was for Trentil to take my side. Ran decided he ought to speak as well.

"I go with Prince Isacor." He had not understood what we were talking about, but sensed a choice had to be made, and I appreciated the vote of confidence. Haieta simply stared at us all. Her anger was gone, replaced with a deep sadness.

I cannot forget. she whispered. She had said what we could not, and even with our resolve, I knew it would be the same for us. Even Trentil had nothing to say to that.

It was several minutes before the silence was broken, and even then it was not by one of us. It wasn't even a sound, really. The Oberon just rocked slightly, as thought something had pushed it. After so many days of absolute stillness, it immediately raised our suspicions.

Something is here. It was Trentil who spoke first, and I saw his hands edge towards his weapons belt.

Do you think they are hostile? Haieta wondered, her eyes noticing the same movements mine did.

Would you like to find out? The Oberon swayed again, and this time an odd scraping noise accompanied it.

They are connecting to the escape hatch! I shouted suddenly. Dendar had shown it to me once, before we left the station ship, in the 'unlikely event of an emergency.' The sound was coming from everywhere, but that was the only way to enter the Oberon from the outside. I took off through the hallways until I reached my destination.

The loud clamor that assailed my ears reassured me that I had been right. Something was on the other side of that door, and they were coming in.

I heard the reassuring sound of feet behind me, and glanced back with my stalk eyes to make sure everyone was there. Haieta and Ran were hanging back uncertainly, while Trentil pushed right to the front. His sentiments about the presence beyond the hatch were plainly obvious, although so far he had refrained from drawing one of the many deadly looking weapons he carried. He stood in front of me now, and I was not sure if it was to protect us, or out of spite.

The suspense was eating away at me painfully. I tried to run through the possibilities of who, or what, could be out there. It could not have been the mysterious ship; that had been decimated, and even if it had survived, it would have destroyed us long before this. Nearly a week had past since we began to drift, and I was hoping it was not a thieving Skrit Na ship, thinking they would find something to sell on this seemingly abandoned ship.

We did not even know where we were. Whatever came in could be the dominant species of this sector, and we had no way of knowing if they were friendly, or if they just wanted to see what was inside before they blew us up.

While I was busy getting myself thoroughly worked up, we heard movement on the other side, and faint voices that were so muffled we could not tell what they were saying. The hatch let out a protesting shriek, and opened.

I had come to expect anything, from the horrifying, to...well, just the horrifying. So I was genuinely surprised with what greeted us.

It was a machine, which was something I had not considered. It walked on two legs, like a Hork-Bajir, with a tail behind, a long muzzle, and ears that stood on top of its head. The shape was oddly familiar, but I could not seem to place it. I wondered what kind of race would send out machines like these.

When Trentil saw them, he visibly relaxed. He must have known something I did not, because my first reaction would be to grab a shredder, but when our certified psychotic did not draw, neither did I.

"Andalites." The leader sounded surprised, but not shocked.

What is happening, Trentil? What are these things? I spoke privately to him, eyeing the speaker suspiciously. Ran was peering around us with heightened interest, and did not seem at all afraid. Haieta shifted her feet but held her ground. And Trentil laughed at me.

You mean you do not know? They are the Chee. The name meant nothing, but with the importance he attached to it, I figured it was something they had taught us in the academy, but I had not heard. He was looking at me reproachfully, like he could not believe how profoundly stupid I was. They are androids. If they are here, it can only mean one thing-- Before he could tell me more, the leader of the small group, assuming we had nothing to say, began to speak again, in a friendly tone, the likes of which I had not heard in a long time.

"On behalf of the Legion of Peace, the Chee welcome you, Andalites and Hork-Bajir, to Earth."

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***A\N*** bada-bum! Plot moving forward now! Whadda ya think? C'mon, you can tell me!


	11. Earth

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 (for the name.) or, eventually, Cowboy Bebop. *smirk*  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: Thanks to my reviewers! I rely on you to tell me...well...everything!

Myst4: will send back email in due time, just have pesky homework. On review: Dendar and Trentil are supposed to be an unlikely shorm pair; that gives me another storyline to work from, either in this story or another one. Yeah, things are gonna get pretty strained with no Dendar around...let's hope they make it through without killing each other. Dialogue is my favorite part of writing, and that is part of the reason I go a bit overboard sometimes when I describe stuff, cuz I have written stories that were basically all dialogue (good dialogue, but ppl didn't know where they were or anything like that.) so I try to compensate. Yayyayyay, you understand Isacor like I do! I love that! And Trentil...don't worry about him becoming soft...he will be mean until the end, cuz I wouldn't have him any other way! *grin* Meeting humans-yes, but Animorphs-no. It has been fifty years. Thanks for adding me to the authors list, it makes me feel so special!

DH-Thanks for the warning about the Chee. I would read the end of the series right now, except I'm afraid that if I do, then all the ideas I have for the story will be canceled out, so I want to finish this story before I pick them up again. Therefore, I trust you to tell me these things, and I reeeeaaaally appreciate it! Ok, on to other things...I'm glad you like all those parts of the story, cuz I work extra hard on those. The Chee will not fix the Oberon, because that type of ship is unknown to them (there's only one of her, remember?) but there is someone, well, two someones, who can fix her. (look at the disclaimer for a small, tiny, miniscule hint, that is not really a very good hint at all.)

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*~*~* Chapter 11...In which Isacor and Co. visit our favorite planet...

Earth. The word made my hearts leap in my chest. I had heard many conflicting stories about this planet, but at the moment it was my favorite place in the universe. Rather than a hostile alien race bent on destruction, we were greeted by androids programmed for peace. I sound very knowledgeable now, but the truth is that Trentil told me this much later on.

"What is your purpose here?" We were being questioned aboard the Chee vessel, which was very small and crowded, save for the room they led us to. It was unusually large compared to everything else on the ship, and I wondered if it was specifically designed for Andalites. With this new inquiry, I was forced back to the present reality, and did not know where to begin. Should I tell them about the attack out of z-space? Or the Hork-Bajir homeworld? Somehow I found myself telling them everything, starting when I had first received the mission. They listened without interrupting while I spoke of the strange ship that had attacked us, but their eyes darted toward one another, and even though they were machines, I could see they were afraid.

"When we saw the explosion, we organized a recovery team right away." The leader said once I had finished. "We had not expected to find anyone alive." He sounded apologetic, and my thoughts went to Dendar, but only for an instant. Now was not the time or place for that.

Will we go to Earth? I asked quickly, to change the subject.

"Of course."

And the Oberon?

"I beg your pardon?"

Our ship. What about her? The Chee was looking at me quizzically, choosing his next words carefully.

"She is badly damaged. It would be...difficult to take her anywhere. There are other ships on Earth..." They wanted to destroy her. It was not spoken, but his voice plainly said so. That knowledge frightened me more than anything. I had already lost one member of my crew, and I would not willingly give up another.

She must be repaired, I told the Chee forcefully. He tried to explain the risks involved with patching a ship in space, but I would have none of it. She was part of us now, and if we lost her, we would lose everything. Then take her to Earth. The android shook his head, but left to discuss the possibility with his crew.

Trentil was becoming restless, pacing the room and snapping irritably at Haieta when she told him to stop. Ran was trying to peek through the closed door to catch a glimpse of the Chee, thus far without success.

There were no windows here, and I felt as though I were being studied by hidden faces, laughed at even. My thoughts wandered, and then turned inevitably back to the ship that had been intent on our destruction. The shards scattered among the stars could not answer the burning questions I desperately wanted to ask. How had they found us in z-space? It was impossible to track anyone there. And with a weapon so powerful that it could reduce the towering Hork-Bajir trees to sheer nothingness? Someone had been at work, these past fifty years, and it had paid off. They were only ideas, all unproven, but persistent. Someday I would know.

After much discussion, the Chee agreed to bring the Oberon with us. She was securely fastened to the new ship, which must have looked comical since she was twice as large as the android vessel.

The landing was rough, as was to be expected. If I had not been so worried for our ship, I might have felt sorry for taking advantage of the Chee's helpfulness. The ship bucked and protested loudly as we entered the atmosphere. From our positions in the room we could, of course, see nothing. Our "landing" felt more like a crash than anything else.

I was half-afraid to venture out in this world that had been used to threaten me throughout my youth.

Raise your blade higher, Aristh Isacor! Those who are too weak to fight sit on Earth and rot!

You do know where they send those who do not know their place.

Do not attack until they fire first? Where do you think we are, Earth?

Even the humans aboard the station ship had talked of the Earth as though it were a disgusting thing that was better off forgotten. There were no attachments to it, as most humans were born in space these days.

I wondered if they even existed on their home planet anymore. It had never come up in conversation before, and I doubted that anyone knew for sure. There were Andalites, surely, and the Chee, but other than that, it was difficult to say.

Trentil could not exit the ship fast enough. He practically charged down the ramp, Ran close at his heels. As anxious as I was to escape the confines of the narrow craft, Haieta and I were the reluctant ones, always a few steps behind the others.

From what I remembered learning of the Yeerk wars, I had expected the barrenness of the Hork-Bajir homeworld to greet our eyes, but as we emerged into the daylight, the horizon was obscured by trees that surrounded the small landing strip. Above them, I could see the remains of buildings in the distance that meant there had been a city. The forest seemed to be reclaiming the earth, growing wild as it must have a long time ago.

The Chee were in a hurry, muttering urgent messages to the ones who came to greet the ships. "Get Erek. He will know what to do. He understands them."

I was too busy to pay much attention to them. Now that I knew that Earth was not a burnt out shell of a planet, I was curious about my surroundings. Trentil, surprisingly, was also looking around him in interest, without the distain I would have expected from him. Ran gazed almost lovingly at the trees that seemed to be everywhere around here. Compared to his world, this must have seemed like a haven. Only Haieta seemed reserved and suspicious.

We cannot trust them. She was muttering.

Not trust the Chee? If you cannot trust them, then who is worthy of it? You really are a female, Trentil growled. Never satisfied with anything.

The Chee are not the only ones who live here. she said quietly, and it was then that I noticed shadows from the trees becoming distinct shapes stepping into the clearing. Andalites. They carried no weapons, and their eyes smiled in welcome, but something in the way they looked at me sent a shiver through my body. Something about them was not right.

"Prince Isacor-Isthelin-Aradron?" the voice startled me, and I broke eye contact with the Andalites to face yet another android. "I am Erek. I hear you are in need of service."

Yes, our ship needs repairs... I caught sight of her for the first time since we landed, and winced. She was a mess; it would take a miracle to make her whole again.

"I should say so. Come with me, I will take you to someone who can help." He appeared to ignore the lurking Andalites as he led us through the clearing to an overgrown path.

The trees thinned out the further we went, and we could just barely make out the movements and shapes of the settlement that lay beyond the turn of the trail. The sun warmed my fur, and the sound of our hooves on fallen leaves was oddly comforting.

The primitive scene we came upon when we reached the community was decidedly shocking. Dwellings looked like the scoops of our homeworld, sunken partway into the ground, and several fires burned nearby with the carcasses of dead animals impaled barbarically on sticks over them. There had to be humans here; the Chee did not eat, and my people would never do something so horrific. Sure enough, out of the scoops appeared human children, gathering in small groups, thin and hollow-eyed, staring at us.

"Forgive them," Erek said. "There have been no newcomers in a long time, and they are curious." I looked at these aliens uncertainly, and they began to whisper and nudge each other, faces unreadable.

"Erek!" An android hurried up to us, sidestepping the children, who immediately scattered in all directions. "You must come with me. There is a prob--a situation." Our guide stiffened for an instant, then inclined his head slightly.

"Tell them I am coming." To us, he said, "I must leave you now, but just ask for Yossarian, and you will be directed where you need to go." The next moment, he was disappearing among the scoops, leaving us standing in the middle of the settlement, which had suddenly become deserted. It appeared that everyone was in hiding, and, without a direction, we had no choice but to search for someone we could speak to.

The only living beings in sight were three human boys that sat by a grouping of scoops, and they grinned broadly as we approached.

"Hi!" they greeted us cheerfully. They were pointing at Ran in a combination of, who looked at me helplessly, like he had done something wrong.

Hello, I replied. He is a Hork-Bajir. They giggled at the word. We are looking for someone...

"Are you the ones who made that big explosion? All the grown-ups are saying it's bad luck, and that we shouldn't talk to you. But we aren't scared," the oldest one puffed out his chest proudly. "I'm nine. I know you're Andalites."

I see, it was discouraging to find out that we were hailed as a bad omen, and that the only ones who would talk to us were children. Do you know of anyone named Yossarian?

"You mean Crazy Yossarian? Yeah, everybody knows her, even the Andalites, and they don't even like us. She can fix anything if you pay her. She talks to her dog a lot, isn't that weird? My mother says that being in the military makes people go funny in the head, and that's what happened to her. Do you think that's true?"

I don't-- I stopped myself from trying to answer his question. We were on a mission; I could not let myself be sidetracked. Do you know where I can find her?

"You mean you don't know? She's in that big building way over there. You can see it from here." He pointed over the low line of scoops, and sure enough, there was a large metal building that towered over the rest. I thanked the children, who were asking me whether or not Ran was a dragon, and quickly moved on. My first encounter with Earthen humans had not been at all what I'd hoped, but it was better than nothing. Trentil was laughing at me again, but I was used to that by now, and could ignore it.

Such a friendly species, Haieta observed as we passed by the closed up scoops.

It was not always this way, Trentil said from the front of our procession. The Yeerks destroyed their power to trust, and now strangers are not welcome here, even other humans.

How do you know all this? I asked him. It had dawned on me that, out of all of us, he seemed to be the only one who ever had the faintest idea of what anything was. He suddenly became even surlier and refused to answer me.

Oh, now the truth comes out! Trentil _likes_ humans, don't you? Haieta taunted.

Haieta- I warned. Too late. Trentil's tail was against her throat before I could finish the word.

Do not say that again. Despite all the times he had lashed out at us, I had never seen him this angry. He slowly drew his tail away, gaining hold of himself. From now on, you can sort out things yourself, without my help. I groaned inwardly. I had not realized how much Trentil had been helping us until he withdrew it.

Is that supposed to frighten me? Haieta said shakily.

It should. All rage had left his face, leaving it cold and unrelenting. I had the feeling that we had lost a part of him; something we had gained only with Dendar's death.

"We here!" Ran Tobir sang out abruptly. He had been a few feet ahead, and had not heard the exchange.

We stood before a wide, open doorway to the building. Inside was a blackness that seemed to reach beyond the frame, beckoning us inside. It occurred to me then that I did not know who, or what, this Yossarian was. She was female, but was she Andalite, Chee, or even human? We were walking in with no idea of who to look for, or what to do.

My eyes adjusted slowly to the low lighting, and I could hear the hum and clank of various pieces of machinery. I did not see anything, so I called out hesitantly.

Yossarian?

As if in answer, there was a deafening bang, and a hole appeared in the metal wall beside me. We all jumped, and Trentil had his shredder drawn in an instant, his eyes searching for something, anything he could aim for.

"Nice try, Andalites, but if you shoot, I shoot, and you are much easier targets than I am."

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***A/N*** Okay, I think I need to clarify something before assumptions are made. When Haieta said that Trentil _likes humans, she did not mean as a preference. I do not approve of the whole cross-species thing. What she meant was that, as a species, they interest him, and he studied more about them than most other Andalites would. Does this make sense? In these future times, humans are kind of looked down upon, so anyone who liked them (except Alistair) would be laughed at and scorned. Doesn't seem like our violent, chauvinistic Trentil, does it? I'm gonna have to write a whole different story about his life, just to explain it all._

Review! Pretty please?


	12. Yossarian

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Ruin my fun *sulks*  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: I am so happy to have reviewers that give meaningful reviews rather than just those who just push me to update (although I like those too!) It really means a lot to know which parts of the stories you like, and what needs to be explained better.

DH-They'll be on Earth for a little while, but not as long as you'd think. They still have some other planets to go and find! Consider that your only hint as to what will come. Oh, who am I kidding, there will be lots more, cuz I give stuff away all the time. As for Earth, there have been some problems since the Yeerks left, and society has been disintegrating gradually. At least that's what I think. And I don't think Trentil's psycho-ness has much to do with the humans, I think it is kind of who he is (although the Andalite up and ups trying to kill him all the time doesn't help!). Earth is pretty barren as far as the Yeerk presence, so whatever the ship is, there won't be much about it there. Keep typing my ears off!

Sam-Thanks for reading and the review. Wheeee!

Myst4- I hope there aren't too many storylines for me to handle...that would be baaaad! Hehehe, I love creating cliffies! It helps me to keep writing more cuz otherwise my readers would probably kill me *glances around in paranoia* All will be explained in this chapter...well, this and the next chapter. And the next, and next... And I have decided that I will write a Trentil story, after I finish this one. He is just too good of a character to only have as a sidekick *grin*

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*~*~* Chapter 12...things get terribly confusing for poor Isacor...

We stood there frozen for a moment, absorbing what the voice had said. It sounded human, lacking the smooth grammatical correctness that would have identified the Chee. Haieta's eyes flicked toward me nervously, as if asking me what to do. Ran Tobir looked mystified that a voice could come from nowhere, and Trentil was still straining to see who made it.

"You lot never learn, do you? This is my last warning, and then I'm siccing Ecks on you!" A low growl was coming from the shadows, and we involuntarily took a step back. That noise was _not human. All of a sudden there was a blur close to the ground that leapt from the darkness towards us, latching onto Trentil's foreleg. He jumped backwards and whipped his tail around, but the thing had already released him and rounded on us. It was snarling ferociously, but now that it stood still, I could see that it stood no higher than my knee. The creature bore a startling resemblance to the Chee, only much smaller, with fur all over its body, and was walking on four legs that seemed too short for its body. Its pointed ears were laid flat against its head, teeth bared. Trentil quit searching for the hidden human and lowered his shredder to take care of the more immediate menace._

"Stop!" this new voice came from Erek, who had just entered the doorway. The creature cocked its head to one side and ceased all noise. "Ecks! Shame on you! You ought to know better than this; these are not local Andalites." The beast, Ecks I presumed, moved his tail from side to side, his ears perked forward and tongue hanging out of his mouth. Ran lowered his head slightly, trying to get a good look at it without risking injury. Erek was now looking past him and into the shadows. "And you also, Yossarian."

"Hey, all Andalites look the same from this distance," came the reply. I felt mildly offended. It was true we did not come in as many sizes or colors as the humans, but I did not think that it was hard to tell the difference. Haieta's eyes flashed, and I was sure that if she had not been so terrified, she would have launched into another one of her lectures on the diversity of Andalites. There was movement, and a human emerged from the shadows. Trentil made a very rude comment about the intelligence of females, and was rewarded with a scathing look from Haieta.

It was the first female of the race I had encountered on Earth, and I was disappointed to see that there were no remarkable differences between her and those on the station ship. Somehow, Earthen humans had seemed to be a different species entirely, from the things that were said about them. This female was of average height and build, but part of one of the less pigmented breeds, as her hair and skin was pale. With her, she carried a weapon I had never seen before. It was large and unwieldy, but looked deadly enough, from the way she held it. She smiled sheepishly, using her mouth, a gesture I found extremely intriguing.

"Sorry about that."

"Why are the lights off?" Erek asked her, glancing at our surroundings more closely.

"Oh," she moved to one side and flipped a switch, blinding us with a sudden excess of light. When my eyes readjusted, I saw that we were standing in a warehouse, and that all around us were ships in various forms of disassembly. Parts were scattered like internal organs across the expanse of space, and for the first time I noticed the oil that stained the artificial skins of Yossarian. A mechanic? Engineer? What was she? "It discourages looting. I also find it's easier to intimidate people if they can't see you, right Ecks?" The furry creature trotted over to her, and she scooped him up in her arms. So this must be the "dog" the children had told me about, the one she spoke to as if it was sentient. It did not appear capable of communication, which led me to wonder why she spoke to it in the first place.

"These Andalites were not sent here. They were attacked coming out of z-space, and their ship is in need of repairs."

"Can't you do them? I'm really busy..."

"The model is unknown to us. It is like no other Andalite vessel we have encountered." I had not thought of this problem. Of course no one would know about the Oberon. The Andalites would have seen to that. How was she to be repaired if there was no one who knew how she worked?

Yossarian seemed untroubled by this, but merely looked thoughtful.

"I'll need someone up here to keep those miscreants away..." I had a sudden image of the Andalites surrounding the landing area. Was she referring to them?

"There are Chee on their way now." Erek said quietly. He would not meet our eyes for a second, and I knew they were not telling us something. "I shall prepare accommodations for your crew." He said to me. "I hope you don't mind staying in the Andalite Quarter. The humans here get a bit edgy around...strangers."

If you do not mind, I would like to go to my ship. I interjected. As irritating as she could be, I could not imagine the ship functioning without her, and I was determined to salvage her program.

"I understand. Does your crew feel the same?" He looked at them expectantly. Ran Tobir was peering at Ecks the dog, half-terrified, half-curious, and I took that to mean that he would be coming with me. Trentil was grumbling something about not caring about the idiotic heap of trash, and Haieta looked as though she would rather nap.

Trentil and Haieta shall accompany you. I told the Chee, feeling a twinge of guilt as I watched them head off into the trees. My motives had been partly selfish, because I could imagine them standing around, growing bored and picking fights with each other and anyone who came within earshot. I had been with them for weeks, turning into months, on end, listening to every insult they could throw at each other, and I was desperate for any chance to send them off somewhere. Who knew? Maybe it would even do them some good.

"A Hork-Bajir, huh? We don't see many of those down here. They usually stay up in the mountains..." I brought myself back to the moment, where Yossarian was talking to Ran, who ducked his head shyly. The more I heard about Earth, the more it seemed to be a catch-all planet for anyone who had no home, or was not wanted anywhere else. No homes; and the dwellings here were not much better, for a race that was supposed to be semi-advanced.

Why do you live in a camp? There is a city nearby. I could recall the tall building I had seen upon exiting the Chee ship. I felt as though I should know the answer to that. Trentil would have known.

"You mean was a city. We tried to live there, but it was a lot more trouble than it was worth. Everything's a mess, it gets that way when your government goes down the crapper, and it's all gang turf now, so they make you pay them to keep your windows intact..." All this talk of gangs and crappers made no sense to me, but I attributed it to the humans' natural ability to make a mess of their lives, as well as their speech.

"No Yeerks here?" Ran suddenly blurted out, sounding more than a little worried.

"Where have you been living? There haven't been Yeerks here for at least 50 years. Must be the only thing we don't have."

He has been stranded on the Hork-Bajir homeworld. He has very little knowledge of external affairs. As we passed the scoops for a second time, I could feel the eyes watching us from the inside, only to disappear when I looked their way. This whole community was arousing my suspicions. Humans were odd creatures, but I had a hard time believing that this was how they lived naturally.

We came out onto the landing field, still overrun with androids that seemed to have no other purpose than to look busy. Yossarian's eyes scanned the area, and she gave a start when she saw our ship.

"Whoa, there's a blast from the past!" she exclaimed, setting Ecks on the ground and walking over to touch the smooth metal. "This structure hasn't been used since the twenties!"

Yes, well...it was a prototype. I was embarrassed of my own ship! I had not paid much attention to her age since we'd left the station ship behind; it had never come up except when Dendar spoke of it, and even then it had not seemed so unusual. Now, on this planet, with these people, I felt I had something to prove, some Andalite image to keep up. Can you repair her?

"Oh, yeah. The Chee can duplicate the outer hull, the part that's blown away here, and I can rewire it." She drew in the air with her fingers as if she was painting a picture. "Ecks will have to run a system test to find any internal problems that need to be addressed. This will all take time; I hope you weren't planning on going anywhere in the near future."

I studied the dog-creature doubtfully, wondering how it was able to run tests of any kind, but the mention of the word 'time' took my mind off of that.

How much time?

"Three months, roughly; and that's assuming nothing comes up that could call the Chee away."

What could call them away? The longer I stayed here, the more complicated things became. Yossarian quickly began moving around the side of the ship, ignoring my question.

"What is so unusual about your ship? The design is a little odd, but other than that, it seems normal enough."

She is run by an artificial intelligence program. I do not know if it is damaged, but I would like you to save it if at all possible.

"AI? On an Andalite vessel? Now that I've got to see." The subject was changing faster than I could speak. The Earth I had expected and the one I found were vastly different places. This haven for the homeless now seemed so much more sinister than what I had been prepared to face. From my first steps on the soil I had been lied to. I wondered if the truth even existed here anymore, or if it was a clever network of deceit that made it possible for people to live with themselves. I hoped I would not have to know.

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***A/N*** Okay, if the ending to this chapter is lame, it is not my fault! It was going to be longer, but I did not see a good stopping point anytime beyond, and this was the best one. Think of it this way, now I can update sooner because I already have a part of the next chappie done. Wheee! Yes, we are excited about this aren't we? I was pressed to finish this chapter, cuz I recently had a dangerous brush with writer's block (aaarrrrrgh! Not that! Anything but that!) and was afraid I would not get it posted. Whew, made it. 

Review please! And if you see any double word uses (using the same adjective or whatever too close together) please let me know, cuz I have not had much time to edit, since I typed this up an hour ago!


	13. How Dogs Work

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Ruin my fun *sulks*  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: Uh, oh, the unlucky chapter 13. It's a little late, I guess, because I was busy becoming a godmother this weekend...that's no excuse, right? Yeah, I know.

DH-I actually lost sleep over trying to figure out a quirk for Yossarian. I already have my psycho, my feminist, my insecure guy, my naïve person...what else is there, really? I finally have one figured out, and I ran it by my editors (mom and sister) and they love it, so that's settled then. Unfortunately, it won't show up until later, so you'll have to bear with my cardboard cutout Yossarian until she can show her true colors...*grin*

L. Emmist-Yay! Thanks for taking an interest in my story! I never trust myself to be true to the actual characters in a series, so I just make up my own. I love the KA universe, it gives me so much room to play!

Myst4-my other loyal reviewer! Thanks so much! I'm glad you noticed Isacor's prejudices against humans. He doesn't mean it, really! Silly little Andalite. *grin*

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*~*~* Chapter 13...Isacor discovers what the hell Ecks really is...Trentil gets in trouble...

Upon her request, I led Yossarian to the engineering room, Ecks close at our heels. Ran waited outside near the trees, content to watch the Chee scurrying about. It took her a few minutes to understand the layout of the place, during which she began muttering a few choice words about the architects. I concentrated on ignoring the eerie feeling I had, being in the room Dendar had died in not too long ago. When she finally found what she was looking for, she beckoned her dog over to her; then reached inside his ear and pulled out a chord. This was unexpected, and I am no expert on the native Earth animals, but I knew that no living creature could do that. Yossarian connected the chord to one of the many inputs that did who knows what. Ecks grew very still, and his clear black eyes became a cloudy gray.

What are you doing? My voice snapped more than it should have. I had been on Earth a total of two hours, and it was wearing my patience. Yossarian jumped at the sharpness.

"He's downloading all the existing data. This way, he can run tests on it and keep it safe in case there is an accident with the original software."

What is he? I indicated the dog, or what I thought had been one. She laughed, partially, I believe, in relief.

"Oh, you've probably never seen one of these before. He's a data dog." Ah, so I was right about it being a dog, at least. "They were created during the war in case the Yeerks returned to Earth. They're like a little computer inside a dog body. He's not a real dog, of course; he is run by an AI program, much like your ship. He is far more intelligent than any of us, but then, you're probably used to that with your AI." She stroked the fur between his ears, but the dog remained perfectly still, not twitching a muscle. Was she assuming that the Oberon's intelligence was on the same level as Ecks? I almost laughed right then.

Why would humans create something like this? I felt stupid asking all these questions, and was beginning to feel sorry that I had slept through much of my class on Earth studies.

"Covert ops. Hacking. Spying. Dogs are everywhere here, so no one would suspect that they may be listening. They could not make anything smaller, like a fly, which would have been ideal, because the computer is way too big."

How do you know all this? It does not seem like something your government would want known. That was the one thing I did remember learning; how many secrets the human political systems enjoyed keeping from them. This looked like it should have been one of them. For that matter, how had this female gotten one of them, if they were supposed to be government spies?

"Yeah, well, their files aren't exactly classified anymore." I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. Ecks had come out of his trance and was now sitting very alertly, listening as he was designed to do. "Ok, boy, let's see what you've got." From a pocket in her artificial skin she removed a small, hand-held computer and plugged the dog in.

My thoughts were on other things now, the future, mostly. Suppose the Oberon was repaired in three months. What then? Even with the threat of the alien ship gone, there were countless other dangers, and the next time we might not be so lucky to have a planet nearby. The more I thought about it, the more pointless it seemed to go anywhere without an engineer. Perhaps there was someone among the resident Andalites who was qualified for the job...

Suddenly, Yossarian began to laugh.

"You have no star charts on here! There are a few little maps, but nothing else. How did you make it here?"

We were not headed to Earth, I said, embarrassed. I thought about telling her where we were headed, but even though the mission was to get rid of us, I still felt that it merited the classified status it was normally given.

"Oh." There was another pause as her eyes scanned the data in front of her. She glanced at me again. "There's really not much to watch. If you wanted to go to your crew..." It was a pointed hint for me to leave, but I shuddered at the thought. Before I could say anything, Erek burst in.

"Good, you're here. You must come with me; I'm afraid there has been some trouble."

I should have known it was a mistake to send Trentil and Haieta off on their own. My imagination immediately came up with a host of possible situations Trentil could create that would get us exiled from the planet of exiles.

Ran and I followed the distraught Chee through the trees, away from the humans' camp. After a few minutes, the Hork-Bajir swung up into the trees, as though he had been there all his life. Soon we came upon what must have been the Andalite Quarter. It was a large clearing, much bigger than the other, and the scoops were more spread out. There were no deceased animals over fires here, but other than that, the two areas were identical.

In the place of humans, there were a number of Andalites, gathered in a circle nearby. They were...jeering? Such behavior was common among untrained arisths who felt they had something to prove, but looking closer, I saw they were all older, at least warrior status. Through the jostling bodies, I saw two distinct forms in the center. The echo of clashing blades confirmed my fears. Either Trentil and Haieta's abuse had gone beyond the verbal (which I sincerely doubted, as Trentil could drop Haieta where she stood), or my weapons officer had managed to say the wrong thing to the wrong person...again.

Haieta presently came trotting towards me; her stalk eyes still swiveled to monitor the progress of the action behind her.

Prince Isacor, I want you to know right now that I had no part in this! she declared loudly, as though I had already accused her. Many pairs of stalk eyes turned towards me, and I felt intimidated by the calculating stares. Forcing myself to shrug it off, I ignored Haieta and approached the circle, which parted slightly to let me in. Sure enough, Trentil and another warrior, main and stalk eyes locked together, were poised, tails raised to strike. Neither had blood on his blade, although it appeared they had been fighting for a while, so I assumed they must be evenly matched. The opponent's breath was coming in gasps, while Trentil, if he had been exhausted, did not show it. 

He did not acknowledge my presence, and struck out again. The tail blade that blocked his was not his adversary's, but rather my own. The clearing was suddenly deathly quiet. To interfere in a personal battle was an insult to a warrior's dignity. Trentil was going to have my head for this. At the moment, however, he was staring at me as though I had grown another tail. It was all I could do to conceal my own amazement at what I'd done.

You cannot fight here, I warned him privately, which sounded more like pleading than anything else. The Chee have been nothing but helpful, and this is how we repay them? We still need to find an engineer among these--

_Prince_ Isacor, there are nothing but traitors and mutineers here. he interrupted, and I had the feeling that he was not making his thoughtspeech private. Do you intend to take one of their kind as a crew member? I did not think even you were that foolish. For all his nasty comments, I saw him reluctantly lower his tail. The other warrior saw this as an opening, and tensed his muscles, ready to strike.

Another figure stepped between them. After a moment, I recognized one of the Andalites who had greeted us silently upon our arrival. He had appeared as if from nowhere, and when the others caught sight of him, the circle dispersed. Even Trentil's opponent departed hurriedly.

I was ready to thank him, when I suddenly realized what had chilled me to the core when I saw them that first time; what had made them different.

From the angle he stood, I could see his tail arched behind him, as normal as any other, if the scythe-like blade, a marked characteristic of our race, had not been missing.

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***A/N*** What, another cliffie? Oh well (hehehe). I promised my sister I would credit her with the tailblade-less Andalites, because it was her idea to do that. Hopefully there will be another update fairly soon, if I can shake this nasty flu bug! *sniffle sniffle* Arrrrgh!

I have some things I need clarified. Notice how morphing has never come up yet? Well, it will soon, and I'm still not quite sure how a few things work. First, when they go back to their normal selves after morphing, do they still have any injuries that they had in their real body before the morph? KA wrote it both ways, and I'm still not sure which one to use.

Viele Danke!


	14. For Love of Peace

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: Thanks to all reviewers, past and present!

DSLguy-Earth is an exile planet, because barely anyone lives there anymore (many humans are born in space) so the Andalites go hmm, we have some undesireables that need to be gotten rid of _quietly_, so what better place to put them than on Earth? I'll try to discuss that in one of these future chapters. Thanks for the question!

L. Emmist-Hmm, never thought of Yossarian as Rachel...interesting. Learning more about the "vecols" in this chappie!

Myst4-Yay, I'm glad you like the title. I wasn't so sure about it myself. I liked it when I thought of it, but then was like...is that an awkward title or what? Private thoughtspeak...too complicated for weetzybat! I've always thought that you never could tell...oh well. Injuries, sminjuries. Another complication. *thinks* That's gonna be tough...why is everything so hard?

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*~*~* Chapter 14...We learn about the peaceful Andalites...Isacor has an inner struggle...

The Andalite did not seem to notice my staring, or if he did, he said nothing. Trentil's face held a mixture of contempt and horror, and though I felt the same way, I tried to keep what I hoped was a neutral expression. No wonder the crowd had dispersed so quickly.

A vecol! Trentil spat in disgust. I had thought so too, at first. But vecols had a part of their tails removed, and this one...it was only the blade.

Only the blade...

_If your goal is to write poetry at the __Andalite__Academy__, Aristh Isacor, then you can go sit on Earth with the rest of the bleeding hearts!_

Bleeding hearts. The Andalites devoted to peace. This was their protest against the war. I felt sick.

"Telken, I thank you for your assistance!" Erek was calling from his position at the edge of the forest, where he had stayed the entire time.

We are glad to serve our friends the Chee. his voice was smooth and confident. The voice of a Prince. He could not be one of the cowards which were the subject of numerous jokes among warriors; yet his tail proclaimed otherwise, and I was torn between what I had been taught, and what I saw before me now.

Another group of Andalites was gathering in the clearing, appearing as if from nowhere. Unlike the rowdy warriors, they stood perfectly still, just...watching. I suddenly felt as though the fight had been a setup, a test to gauge my responses. I was being paranoid.

We will speak to the leader. he was continuing, and the others were moving their heads in silent agreement, all eyes on me. Leader; yes, I had to keep reminding myself that was what I was.

There was nothing to fear from them, they carried no weapons, and their tails were useless as they were. Still, I was terrified. There was power in the way they stood; there was pride. Trentil's eyes turned to me sharply as I stepped forward, as if to say _you are going with them?!_ To him there must have been no greater insult than to associate with those who disgraced themselves this way. I did not look back.

We left the clearing and pushed through thick brush until I felt as though I had picked up every burr and seed pod that could attach itself to my fur. My awe of these Andalites was rapidly dissipating the further we went. The only reason I was following them now was because I knew I would never find my way back alone.

When we did stop, it was at no place in particular. Several of them separated from the group, seemingly at random, and I was beginning to wonder if their minds were as altered as their tails.

An Andalite Prince who would call a personal battle to a truce? That is rare indeed, in this day and age. Telken was one of the few who had remained, and stood before me now. I was not sure of what to say

My obligation is to the well-being of my crew. Quoting from Fleet regulations was less than original, but would do for my purposes. He smiled sadly.

So many forget...but not you. You are like us. I did not want to hear this, did not want to be compared to them, even if it was true. Especially if it was true. Telken noticed my silence. Do we repulse you? he queried, his voice taking on an edge.

No... I lied quickly, unsure of how to address him. I did not even know his full name. Was he really a Prince?

Is this all being an Andalite is to you? his tail whipped forward, until it was directly under my eyes, a non-existent blade at me throat. I jumped back. He lowered his tail and closed his eyes. Perhaps I was wrong about you. he turned to leave. I could not let him go on believing that. There had to be something I could do; something I could say...

Honor! I blurted out suddenly. Telken paused, rolling a stalk eye back curiously. That word always seems to capture our attention.

What?

That is what being an Andalite is to me. Honor. It was another line from Academy training, but one I had taken to heart. I tried to explain myself. Without our honor, we are nothing. We are worse than Yeerks.

He was smiling with his eyes, turning back to me. Again, I had the feeling that this was all a test, and that he'd known what the outcome would be even as he walked away. I wondered if I had passed.

He held something in his hands. The others were returning, each with similar pieces, angular, geometric. They gave them to Telken, who pieced them together, forming a dull blue cube.

Tell me, young honorable Prince. Have you ever seen an Escafil device?

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***A/N*** Aaahhhh! Sorry this is so late! I was gonna have it typed up two days ago, but forgot! Take heart, the next chapter is partially done already, so it won't be too long til it's out *knocks on wood*. Soooo, what do you think of that cliffy, eh? Pretty steep! *looks down, gets dizzy* The chapter's pretty short, but I don't want to draw it out to a normal chapter length (2000 words) cuz I'm lazy! It went pretty fast tho, and some will wonder why these Andalites trust Isacor after, like, three minutes with him. He's got an honest face, I guess, or they are really good judges of character.


	15. A Short History of the Blue Box

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: This chapter is mainly to set the record straight on who can morph, and who cannot...

DH-Thanks for the reviews! I was getting a little worried...but that was silly of me! Thanks for doing 2 reviews *feels special* sorry for getting 'data dog' stuck in your head, but it's been stuck in mine too...what kind of dog is your puppy, by the way? My sister is not writing with me per se...but she does give me ideas, and edits my stuff...so I'll tell her anyway! Thank you! Ack! Did I do another LOTR reference? Nooooo, I must be excited for Return of the King, and it's still months away! Telken=Tolkien. Ha ha!

Myst4-Oh boy, I bet you are right about the vecol thing...I'll have to look at the Myrtil story again to see about that...the only thing I remember about them was on the Leera planet, the traitor person cut off the one guy's tail, and I think they called him a vecol...I'm so confused! Thanks for telling me, and I may have to make some corrections! Yaarg! And in this story, I'm not doing the Trentil slashy thing, I just think that it would make a funny story. I don't think any of the characters have much in the way of romantic interests...*shrugs* Although you may be surprised at who can morph, and who cannot...*leaves Myst4 hanging*

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*~*~* Chapter 15...things really have changed in the past 50 years...

For a moment I thought my hearts had stopped, and I found I could barely breathe. The Escafil device was practically...no, it was legend, and it was difficult for even the most well-versed historian to say if all the stories about it had been true. Its history was as complex and mysterious as the Yeerk wars, and I could never be certain what was fact or fiction. Some said there were humans who had used it, under a breach of Seerow's Kindness; some said there were Yeerks. Others said both. One story claimed that they had killed each other over half a century ago, and that was what had ended the Empire.

The Fleet did not confirm nor discredit any of the stories, and the only thing I knew for certain was that since then, the military was keeping a lock on the technology. All known devices were systematically recalled and destroyed; all save one, which was presented to those with the highest rank and unwavering loyalty. Arisths, warriors, and even most Princes, myself included, did not fit this description. I had never even known what an Escafil device looked like, until now.

Now, it seemed that the Fleet was not the only one with access to a power that was practically forbidden, a power most could only dream of. I wanted to ask where it came from, how they had gotten it, and if they had used it, but the cube had a hypnotic effect, and I found myself mute.

Your name, Prince. Telken spoke again, breaking my concentration.

Isacor-Isthelin-Aradron. I spoke mechanically. This whole event was surreal; and I half-expected the forms before me to melt away into the shadows, leaving me standing by myself in the middle of a wild Earthen forest.

The Legion of Peace finds you of admirable character, Prince Isacor, and presents a gift befitting your station. I imagined the high officers in the Fleet made a speech similar to this. It surprised me how alike the two groups were. Telken extended the blue cube towards me, and without thinking, I reached out to touch it.

It seemed to glow then, and grew warm under my fingertips. I felt what seemed to be a minor electric shock that left my body humming afterwards.

It is done. That was it? Somehow I had expected something more...profound. A flash of light or sound, perhaps, like what they did on the homeworld when the estreens performed. Such attractions were rare now, with the limited number of morph-capable Andalites, but that made them all the more amazing. You are aware of the time restrictions?

Yes. Two hours. History was coming back to me again as I remembered the well-known rule. If I knew nothing else about morphing, it was the two-hour limit. After that, you would be trapped in a body that was not your own...forever. The thought was gruesome.

Then I trust we are finished here?

Wait! I had kept the questions at bay up to this point, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I wanted to know more. How did you come to possess the Escafil device? They should have been destroyed... Telken's eyes smiled at me.

There are things even our friends must not know.

Are all of you morph-capable? If they had the device, it only made sense, but Telken looked affronted.

Of course not! he said sharply. This technology is a blatant symbol of warfare. The loss of life caused as a direct result of using it makes my skin crawl.

So, why do you have it?

We cannot let them have it. Them. He must have meant the other Andalites; the exiles. It was understandable, but still, if they found it so deplorable...

Why not destroy it? And why give this power to me? For a full minute he did not speak, only looked awkwardly at the box in his hands. He seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts, and I was afraid to say anything lest I never get an answer. The other Andalites that surrounded us waited patiently, never faltering in their own mysterious convictions. Finally, Telken spoke.

Because, even through war, there can be peace. he gave no other explanation, apparently feeling that this would be enough to satisfy me. The interrogation was over. Somehow, I felt as though I knew even less than when I had walked into the woods.

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***A/N*** Arrgh! Another deplorably short chapter! I promise the next one will be a lot longer. My teachers are running after me, brandishing tests and essays and...and...*finds a quiet place to hide with her notebook and pen* Ha! They will not find me here! *starts to scribble furiously*

To compensate, here is a pseudo-preview for the next chapter...I have taken two quotes from Haieta, and from that I'll let you try to figure out what it is about...*laughs evilly* I'm so cruel...

Show me! Let me see! Do not try to hide it!

TRENTIL, YOU LIAR! (heh, that's one of my favorite quotes...)


	16. Together Again

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: Here we are, a longer chapter! And not that long in coming. Do I keep my promises, or what?

L. Emmist-Thank you! I always thought that was what the Andalites would do if they found out that they weren't the only ones who could use the technology. And by all means, use that idea in your own story! I read the Family, it's the one about the wolves, right? I like it!

Myst4-oh, gosh, I didn't mean to tax your mind so much! See? Here's the answer, it's okay! Don't lose sleep!

DH-*feels all special and complimented* Thankyouthankyouthankyou! And I feel bad for not telling you that you are one of my very favorite authors too! You're on my list! I have you under author alerts, so I can read all your updates as soon as you post them! And I feel obligated to tell you that you should be studying for your midterms, or writing your god-awful English essay, and not reading my story...*gasps* I don't mean it! School is unimportant! Be a senior again, like me! *grin* Thanks for IMing me! And I forgot before to tell you...bring on the Puppy pics! Superman....hehehe!

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*~*~* Chapter 16...we FINALLY figure out who exactly can morph...

Prince Isacor! Haieta's voice, even from across the valley, echoed within my head. My eyes soon found my young crewmate, tearing across the field that separated us. I had left the Legion of Peace feeling more confused than ever, and I still was not sure what I would tell the others. Did I trust them with the truth, or would I be forced to withhold information, something I had always despised in my leaders?

Show me! Let me see! Do not try to hide it!

What? I stammered. How could she have known? There was no way she could have known—

Your tail! Her stalk eyes seemed to stretch in order to peer around me. They did not disgrace you, did they? Without meaning to, I found myself laughing. Whether it was relief or nervousness, I could not tell. This only served to aggravate Haieta further.

TRENTIL, YOU LIAR! she roared when I showed her that my tail was unaltered.

You really are a gullible wench! he shouted back. A dull ache gradually formed in my head, thanks to the mental bruising it was receiving. What did you think they would remove the blade with? She started to reply to this, and then caught herself; eyes narrowing in anger.

Well, what was it about then? she challenged me. They had a right to know, I thought. And they did not specifically say to keep it a secret, except from the exiles, and I had no inclination to tell them anything. I kept my thoughtspeak private, directed only at Trentil, Haieta, and Ran Tobir, who had come down from the trees now that the other Andalites had disappeared.

They had an Escafil device, I told them, feeling as though I was betraying someone I did not even know. They...let me use it. It took a few seconds for this to sink in, and the reaction was surprising.

Oh, is that all? Haieta sounded almost bored. I can do that too. Father did not want me among males with no way to protect myself. I told him that my tailfighting is as good as the next male's,-- Trentil snorted loudly, giving his opinion on this topic, and Haieta, to her credit, ignored him; or so I thought. But he was as narrow-minded and arrogant as a certain member of our crew, and did not believe me. He has connections among the high officers, and convinced them to let me use the Escafil device. Somehow, once she had finished my story, my own induction into the morph-capable world seemed...belittled; not as important an event as I once thought it to be. After all, if a female could gain access to this power so easily...

Trentil had not said anything yet, but did not seem at all surprised at my news either.

Are you able to morph also? I asked him in dismay.

Yes. It suddenly became clear as to why he had survived so many missions that should have killed him. I wanted to know where he had gotten the ability, but his stoic answer left no room for discussion.

"What is 'morph'?" Ran asked hesitantly.

Quiet, fool! Do you want everyone to hear you? The Hork-Bajir shrank under the harsh words, and I felt for him. He did not know the danger in saying that word aloud.

You must never speak of this, Ran. Do you understand? The other Andalites cannot know. I tried to think of a simple way to explain the science of the morphing technology, and found I could not. Morphing is...hard to explain, actually. It is something special that can be very dangerous if others find out about it. Ran nodded gravely. He was taking this very seriously, which would have been comical if I had not been as serious as he.

"I will not tell," he told us solemnly.

Thank you.

Prince Isacor? Haieta got my attention again. What is the status of the Oberon? I had forgotten that they had been absent during my meeting with Yossarian, and knew nothing of her plans and predictions.

The repairs will take three months, at the least, I told her. Her face seemed to pale beneath her fur.

Three months? On Earth? With..._him_?

Earth is much larger than the Oberon. I pointed out.

Not large enough. Trentil grumbled. Send her into orbit so we will not have to listen to her whine.

At least I do not pick a fight with everyone who looks at me cross-eyed!

They don't have to look at you. They only have to talk to you...

Trentil was right; the Earth was not large enough. If Dendar were here, he would have halted this argument before it had even begun. Oh, no...Dendar! I had completely forgotten about him! I looked guiltily at the others, in case they could read my private thoughts, but they did not seem to notice my discomfort.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to me. The Chee did not know that we had another crew member, or that he was dead, or that he was being kept in the sick bay until we could perform the proper rights...all this had slipped our minds in the excitement of rescue.

Without thinking, I began to run back the way we had come, up the path and towards the landing field. Please, do not let Yossarian have poked around the ship before we could return and explain...the rustling in the trees beside me, and the pounding of hooves behind me was reassuring. They were coming with me. Had they realized what I did? Was there a faintly sick feeling in the pit of their stomachs?

Several Chee started as we poured into the clearing, and upon recognizing us, seemed to relax. Was this a good sign? The Oberon stood before us, and in front of her was Erek and Yossarian. The android's face was unreadable, but the human was staring at us, her face full of blatant mistrust.

"Did you know," she asked, and it was more a statement than a question, "that you have a dead body in your ship?"

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*A/N* Damn! Is that another cliffie? *kicks self* I don't mean to, you know...

Oh, since I have space, I might as well make an official **_Author's challenge_...Myst4, you know about this already...I challenge anyone who thinks they have a good enough grasp of my characters here (which is pretty much everyone) to write a fanfiction on my fanfiction. There can be any pairing, and they can do whatever you want (wow, that could be scary). Sounds fun, huh? I've always wanted to have someone do something like that...so if anyone wants to, go for it! *Just mention my fic in it so ppl don't think the characters are yours, please!***


	17. Accusation

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***:Everyone better go and read the fanfic by Myst4 that is a response to my challenge...it is so great!

Myst4-yes, you can get extra credit for the challenge...special bonus points for you! And I love your fanfic, if you couldn't tell by my review...

DH-ack! Don't have time to reread reviews to comment on them...tho I do know that half was about the story and half about your life...hehe, not complaining here! Remembering something about an Andalite donner party...eeew! gross! And crossing stalk eyes...I'll leave that to the reader (no, it's not cuz I have no explanation...be quiet.)

The Drode-Yes! Please do take a stab at it!

L. Emmist-Yeah, Isacor really is kinda prejudiced, isn't he? Poor guy. Thanks for reviewing!

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*~*~* Chapter 17...Isacor is in trouble...

We explained to them of course, the circumstances surrounding Dendar's death, but although they smiled and listened, I could see the doubt on Yossarian's face, and could only assume the Chee felt the same way, despite their neutral exterior.

"We shall contact your captain to verify your story," Erek said when we had finished.

You are in contact with the Andalite fleet? My surprise must have come across as guilt, because he studied me carefully when he replied.

"Yes, we are asked to report on the status of the...visitors to this planet. It is strictly confidential; you will not be able to use the line. In the meantime," he shifted uncomfortably, "I must ask you to stay with the other Andalites."

I understand. I did not, in fact, understand, but I thought it best not to incriminate myself any more than I already had. My hearts sunk as I realized we would have to wait with the very people we had wanted to avoid. As we were escorted back, I made a feeble warning to Trentil about causing any more trouble, to which he laughed cruelly and told me I was doing a better job at that than he.

In all, there were no more than twenty Andalites present, not counting the Legion of Peace, who had made themselves suspiciously absent. They were all males, which prompted Haieta to make a comment to me privately about the integrity of males versus females. I was not in the mood for one of her lectures, but I knew that if I told her this, she would call me insensitive and launch into one anyway.

Many of them were ignoring us, preferring to graze in small groups at the opposite end of the valley. The few who did stay and acknowledge our presence were the same ones who had encouraged the fight earlier.

We should have known you were criminals, one said, Andalites with nothing to hide would not set a hoof on Earth if they could avoid it. Although I am surprised it is murder, of all things. You do not seem capable of such an act. Normally, I would have taken this as a compliment, but the way he said it made it sound like an insult.

I am not, I answered truthfully. What else could I say?

Of course not, he sneered, When you associate with vecols, what else could you be but a simpering half-wit who would sooner die than compromise their _morals..._

Trentil's tail was a blur by my side, and the Andalite found a blade at his throat before he could finish his sentence.

You would do well to remember your rank here; or would you disgrace even that? Why could I never think of lines like these? At least it appeared even Trentil had some honor left in him, enough to defend his prince, at least. I did not know why he bothered, since he did not even like me to begin with. The Andalite continued calmly, purposely ignoring the fact that his head could be removed at any time.

...but not you, he addressed my weapons officer with something akin to pride in his thoughts. You have it in you. The hate, the rage, he had _that_ right. It would not surprise me if you had killed before... His words struck a chord, I could see by the barely perceptible twitch in Trentil's main eyes.

It is war. We are all killers.

Killers, yes. Murderers, no. he stepped away from the tailblade at his throat. Even I know the difference between the two. They could not be trusted, these traitors to their race. There was no reason to believe anything they said; and still...I wondered. These thoughts were dangerous. If I could not trust my crew, I had no one. No wonder Trentil had gotten into a fight.

Haieta looked on in distain at the idiotic mind games we males played on each other. I felt a small measure of relief on seeing her skepticism, and it seemed to bring me away from whatever distrust I may have developed regarding Trentil. He was a violent maniac, to be sure, but he had always proven himself worthy of our trust. Ran stood close, a futile attempt to hide his Hork-Bajir bulk behind me. He was afraid of these Andalites, and who could blame him? I was too.

***

It was three hours before Erek and Yossarian came back. When they did, their faces were grim. They motioned us to the edge of the valley.

"There is no record of you aboard the station ship you mentioned. We inquired after the Oberon, and they told us it had been stolen." It was a terrible lie. Who had ever heard of anything being stolen from a station ship, least of all an entire spacecraft? The Captain evidently had to invent a few things in a hurry. Yossarian was watching us, well, me actually, closely, as though to gauge my reaction. I hoped I looked astonished enough for her. I could not think of anything to say. After pausing a moment, Erek continued.

"He has asked me to detain you here until they can send a team to sort things out. The Oberon is to be dismantled." This could not be happening! We had brought her here to undergo repairs, and now they were going to destroy our only means of transport.

But...this is madness! Haieta interjected, the first of our group to speak. We were at the station ship not too long ago! Why would the captain refuse to recognize us? Trentil and I said nothing as we exchanged glances with our stalk eyes, though we were thinking the same thing. As a cadet right out of the Academy, an aristh in all but name, Haieta could not be expected to understand the motives behind this whole mission. Maybe her arguments would proclaim our innocence...we could hope. Yossarian ignored her entirely and addressed me.

"There is a Hork-Bajir community a short way up the mountain. Would your crewmate," she indicated Ran, "prefer to live there?" From her tone, it did not seem like this would be a short-term stay. Ran looked at me in alarm, the answer plainly written in his eyes. He did not understand most of the question; only that it would mean leaving us, the only people he knew. To send him away would seal our fate.

He will stay with us, I told her firmly. Stay, on Earth. For how long? How many weeks, months, years would it take for the Captain to send anyone to retrieve us? Too long. Far too long.

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*A/N* Okay, I'm thinking they'll be off of Earth in about two chapters. Is that too short a time?

Review, please!


	18. A Brief Exile

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: Oh, yes, super long chapter here! What more is to be said?

DH-Plenty of action I hope...we'll see about Yossarian, won't we? (that should be answer enough in itself, I would think. *grin*)

Liaranne-Yay! Love Down Periscope! If you look veeery hard, you can see some of it in the crew. (ie: Isacor=Captain Dodge, Haieta=Lt. Lake, Trentil=Stepanic, Ran=Nitro? Hmm, maybe he's more like Sonar?) And Menderash became a nothlit in the last book, and I think he's dead...if you assume that the last battle was fatal, which I do...and the captain said the ship was stolen because he wants to keep Isacor and the others away from the Fleet, and what better way to do that than tie them up with bureaucratic red tape?

L. Emmist-Thank you! That feels so nice, especially since I try to make everything balanced without giving too much power to one person...*feels all special*

Myst4-Thank you Mistie (has now given you an official annoying nickname...hehehe)! Gosh, that's a lot of reviewing...think I may send you a personal email on that later...soon as I write that English essay...*sigh* have forgone that for the past three days in favor of writing fanfic. Hope it is worth it!

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*~*~* Chapter 18...Trentil has a plan...and Isacor morphs for the first time...

Six months passed, which might well have been six days for as much as things changed around here. Ours was a peculiar sort of prison; we could go where we wanted, do or say what we pleased. The one exception was the airfield, and I finally understood why there had always seemed to be an overabundance of Chee in that area.

"They're guards," Yossarian had told us, while on one of her visits. I did not understand until later why she continued to talk to us, if it was she who had thought us to be murderers in the first place. She never showed any interest in our fellow exiles either. Perhaps we were simply more interesting. "They won't tell you that, of course, because it would scare the humans. The truth is, the Andalites here pretend not to care, but they want nothing more than to leave, and they'll use any means necessary. Their most common target is the airfield, where the functioning ships are. Every year or two they stage a takeover, but the Chee are more than a match for them. It's kind of pathetic, really."

Trentil was taking this whole thing harder than anyone else. All his weapons had been confiscated from him, and added to this insult was the refusal to return Dendar's body for us. We still performed the burial rituals, of course, deep in the forest beyond even the Legion of Peace. I did not know how Dendar would feel, being buried on an alien planet, so maybe it was just as well we did not have a body. The whole affair seemed slightly awkward with nothing to bury, but once it was over I felt a strange sense of peace, as if I could let him go now.

The feeling did not last long, as it was a full time job trying to keep my crew entertained. Ran, for his part, seemed content to make concoctions from bark for us, even though there was plenty of grazing. So long as I put a hoof in and made approving noises, he was all right.

Haieta wanted to acquire some Earthen morphs, and 'have some fun', in her own words; but Trentil rebuked her by saying that morphing was a weapon, not a toy, and that we could not risk discovery for such nonsense. I felt somewhat embarrassed, because I had wanted to do the same thing, but he was right; now wasn't the time.

It was a few days after this confrontation that Trentil approached me with a plan. This took me by surprise, not only that he had come to me of his own free will, but that he had bothered to think about something before jumping into it.

I know how we can escape, were his exact words.

What? How?

I heard that Erek was arguing with Yossarian. Apparently, she did not dismantle the Oberon like she was supposed to.

The Oberon is still here? In one piece? I had given up all hope of recovering her, and the knowledge that she was still 'alive' so to speak gave me renewed hope.

Even better. She has been making repairs, saying something about it belonging in a museum. I have been watching her workstation and know that the Chee do not keep close guard over it. None, in fact. This was when I first became suspicious. Did they expect Yossarian and Ecks to fight off any hostile Andalites all by themselves? There had to be something more there; something we could not see.

How can you be sure of this? There is no certainty in rumors. It could be a trap...

That is where the plan comes in, he said with great bravado. We can infiltrate the premises in morph. Infiltrate. I hated that word; it was such a Yeerkish word. Nonetheless, what Trentil said had an edge of brilliance to it.

What kind of morph? Whatever it was, it would have to be unobtrusive; something no one would look twice at. Trentil, with his human expertise, would have the answer, I was sure. He looked at me smugly.

I have the perfect ones. They blend in to the background, and fit right in with the surroundings. You might even say they are expected to be there.

***

No, I said when he told me. We cannot do this.

Why not?

It is highly unethical, for one thing!

We do not have time to get bogged down in your moral garbage! Trentil shouted, losing the last of his very limited patience.

Even if I did agree with you, which I don't, how would we acquire them? There was a self-satisfied smile in his eyes.

It is already done. She did not notice a thing.

You acquired Yossarian?

Yes. Now all you need to do is ask to pet Ecks--

Wait. Why do I have to be the dog?

Because you are not prepared to handle the complexities of a human morph. I am. I felt as though I was being talked down to by an instructor. Now, will you cooperate, or will I have to throw my pride out the door and ask Haieta? His face was grim, but determined. If he was desperate enough to ask Haieta for help, then this was serious.

I will do it, I conceded reluctantly. I justified it to myself by saying that there was nothing I could do since he had already acquired Yossarian. Then there was a thought, a nagging doubt that was worrying me. Does Ecks even have any real DNA? He is a computer.

If you would get your head out of whatever fantasy world you live in, you might actually pick up a few things. Yossarian constantly boasts about data dogs, and how their AI program can actually maintain real skin and hair. That is the only real thing about them, but it should not be difficult. It was not surprising to learn that I had drifted off during this particular conversation, as tech talk of any kind was enough to bore me to death. Still, it was embarrassing to have Trentil know about it.

***

Yossarian? May I...touch Ecks? The question had been carefully planned out, but I still felt like an idiot saying it. She had to know it was not a casual request, but if she did, she hid it well. She grinned broadly with her highly expressive human face and scooped the surprised dog off its feet.

"You mean pet him? Sure, go ahead. Did you know his fur is actual dog fur..." I was no longer listening to her, concentrating instead on Ecks, who was looking at me with those eerily intelligent eyes, even as he wriggled in his master's arms, which said at once that he saw right through me. I reached out to touch him, feeling his body relax under my touch, though the eyes were still alert and watching.

"Man, you really have a way with animals," Yossarian broke in. "He calmed right down." I patted him gently to keep up the pretense, and he immediately began to squirm again.

Did you acquire him? Trentil asked me when they had left.

I think so.

Then it is settled. Yossarian always leaves around mid-morning. The building will be empty, and we can make our move then.

Why does she leave? Where does she go?

Does it matter? Trentil snapped at me. So long as she is gone, there is no problem. This was too easy. We were missing something important.

***

I still had not discovered what by the next morning, and Trentil was eager to go.

You cannot change your mind now!

There is something wrong with this. We should wait...

The Oberon may not be there much longer! Erek could have it destroyed today. We must act! He was pressuring me, and I knew I should not have given in, but his arguments made sense.

So...what do I do? There was some kind of trick to morphing, but I did not know what it was. Trentil was giving me that "you are an idiot" look again.

Form a picture in your mind of what it is you want to morph. Then imagine yourself becoming it. Simple, really; even you should be able to handle it.

I tried to ignore him and focused instead on the small little Earth creature I had acquired. The harder part was imagining me turning into him.

I felt a falling sensation, and instinctively tried to catch myself, only to discover that my legs were no more than six inches long. Trentil began to laugh at me, until suddenly his forelegs were sucked back into his body and he fell on his face beside me. I could barely contain my own laughter, but was eventually distracted by my tail suddenly dissolving into a little stump on my hind end. My ears shifted to the top of my head, replacing my stalk eyes. Then the rest of me began to shrink, and one of my pairs of legs vanished, to be replaced by my rapidly strengthening arms. My nose was elongating, splitting into a gaping mouth.

I was not sure when the morph was completed, mainly because the dog mind abruptly inserted itself into my consciousness. It was happy. It wanted to play.

Every sound and smell was magnified to my sensitive ears and nose, which only served to make my dog brain more excited. Surely there was someone in this wide, wonderful world who would play with me!

A sudden movement beside me attracted my attention, and to my utter joy, it was a person! I trotted over to their face and began licking it furiously. How could they just be laying there when they could be petting me? The human made some garbled noises and shoved me away.

Get OFF, you fool! I was immediately brought back to my senses. My Andalite senses.

S-sorry. I stammered sheepishly.

I suppose I should have warned you about the consciousness of the morph. Sometimes they can be quite forceful. he conceded.

Is that what the human mind is?

No, but humans are capable of speech, which is difficult to master. I tried out the dog's vocal chords curiously, but could only produce a strange growling sound. What now?

I seem to be lacking a human's artificial skin. It is considered rude to appear publicly without it. You will have to steal some for me. He had not yet used the voice of his Yossarian morph, and we must have looked very strange, a human and an dog sitting, staring at each other. I did not have the courage to tell Trentil that his plan was becoming more complicated every moment.

We were in the woods just outside the humans' camp, so it was not difficult for me to poke around and find an empty scoop. A good amount of artificial skin was hanging from a line just outside the opening, and even in my short body, I was able to jump repeatedly and grab them with my strong jaws.

Yossarian, no, Trentil, took them without a word, and my dog mind felt disappointed that I did not even receive a pat on the head. Without meaning to, I whined.

Would you get a grip on yourself, Prince Isacor? Trentil said disgustedly. Ecks does not act like a dog, and neither should you. he finished dressing, and eyed the garments critically. This will have to do. Confidently, he stepped into the human camp, despite the fact that he was precariously balanced on two legs, without even a tail to steady himself. I was impressed that he only wobbled slightly. He'd had practice.

I followed closely, and managed to stay relatively focused, although the dog begged to be allowed to chase a small, round object that a few children threw back and forth.

"Yossarian, didn't I just see you going the other way a few minutes ago?" An older female, as evident by the slackening of her skin and fading hair color, addressed Trentil, and he hesitated in his stride.

"Yeah. Forgot something," he answered vaguely, and we hurried away even as she asked why he was wearing those clothes.

That is a good accent. Where did you learn that?

I listen; I remember. It could be taken as a veiled insult, but I chose not to. My policy with Trentil was to pick my battles, and let him walk over me the rest of the time. We made it to the workstation, and slipped inside with only an elderly human the wiser.

What do we look for? I wondered.

The Oberon, I suppose. his plan evidently ended at our successful entry of the building. I might have guessed.

The room looked significantly different from my position close to the ground. Tables and benches loomed over my head, and I discovered that everything was just high enough for me to walk under. I was beginning to like this creature.

She would not be able to store the Oberon in here. There is no room. Even as I said it, I could see a light beneath a door on the far wall. I trotted swiftly beneath the equipment, while Trentil was forced to take a longer route. Cautiously, I sniffed at it, but the smell of dust and myself and Trentil, mingled with machine smells, yielded nothing.

Trentil caught up and without delay, opened the door. Stealth was not his strong suit. The room we entered then was monstrous. The ceiling extended far above our heads, and the walls continued out in either direction. This had not been visible from the outside, and yet, how could it not?

A hologram. The Chee.

In the center of the room was the Oberon, complete. I looked around excitedly at Trentil, but his eyes were focused directly in front of him.

At Yossarian. The real Yossarian.

"Took you long enough."

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*A/N*  Here's a nice looong chappie for you to mull over. I'm gonna try to pass English now, but as soon as the essay is done, I'll be running back here. Tschuss!


	19. A Glorified Escape

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***:

DH-I agree with the Rachel thing...I think that was best...but not Ax! *cries* Yeah, I like my doggie thing too...I've been spending waaay to much time around dogs...

Myst4-naw, essay was on Heart of Darkness...a grossly overrated book if you ask me...I laugh at myself for the six month thing, but I don't want to drag it out...cuz it'll get boring...tsk tsk, you are a psychopath *grins* s'okay tho, you can identify with Trentil now...

L. Emmist-Man, I'm glad I'm not getting out of character...I was rereading the beginning, and cracking myself up...so damn funny...yeah, my characters evolve...*looks smug* j/k

Igloo-*giggles maniacally* I have led another into the web...come my pretties...*cackles*

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*~*~* Chapter 19...Isacor has to endure another flawed plan...

It took a moment for me to register what she had said. Trentil's human mouth was hanging open, but no sound escaped. He could not think of what to say...a rare thing for him.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to get you to come here? When you finally asked to pet Ecks, I was about to throw him at you. As if these people don't think I'm crazy enough already, I had to leave my work at the same time every day and wander around for an hour to get you to notice. And they say you Andalites are smart..." she shook her head, and then looked at Trentil again. "Do you think you could demorph now? That's really creepy."

We both shed our disguises, though I was somewhat sad to see the dog mind go. I could not remember the last time I had felt so carefree, and I wanted to hold onto that. As it drained away, Yossarian's words began to come together. That was what my uneasiness had been. Everything had been planned from the start. All of the 'observations' Trentil had made were carefully executed to attract his attention. I would have laughed if he had not been standing next to me, within striking distance.

"So, how do you like it?" Yossarian asked, waving to the Oberon. "It took longer than I expected, since I had to do all the repairs in secret. Not many Chee will go against Erek's ruling. The Andalites tried to help too, but they mostly got in the way." The vecols had been in on this too? I was feeling more foolish every second. "She's fully functional now, theoretically. I still haven't started her up to see. Too risky, you know."

Are you...helping us? it was hard to disguise my disbelief, and Yossarian looked affronted.

"Do I look like an idiot to you? I've lived practically my whole life among Andalite criminals; I know a liar when I see one. Your Captain is really full of it." I was trying to let this sink in, but it felt unreal and dreamlike. I expected at any moment to wake up in the Andalite Quarter.

You want something. From Trentil, it was more a statement than a question.

"Of course. You don't think I did this purely out of the goodness of my heart, did you?"

What do you want? I asked nervously. I knew humans had a distinctive love for money, and I was hoping that she would not want to be paid for her services, because we had nothing.

"I want to go with you. Me and Ecks."

But this is your home. Why would you want to leave?

"Don't you know? No, I suppose you wouldn't; six months isn't long enough. You think this is all Earth is, a refugee camp with a few exiled Andalites? Our world is bigger than that, my friend. There is still war here. We fight and kill each other over a planet that doesn't even want us anymore. The mistake people made was thinking that it would be different with the Yeerks gone; they let their guard down. Earth is not a place of peace, Prince Isacor, it is a place of death." She stopped and took a breath, calming herself down before looking at me. "I don't want to die."

We cannot take her with us, Trentil told me, breaking into the heavy silence that followed her words. If you allow one to slip past, then you end up taking them all.

"There will be no one else," she insisted. "Just us. Besides," and she pointed out the one fact that we could not deny. "You need an engineer. I'm it." Trentil was turning his back, walking away, but I stayed where I was. The truth was, we needed her, and she knew it.

***

If my father could see me now, he would be ashamed. Hork-Bajir, humans, and... Haieta thought a moment, staring at me in my dog form, little furry creatures, on an Andalite crew? Oddly enough, the statement was said with a kind of humor, as though shaming her father was one of Haieta's favorite pastimes. Her next words, however, were serious. I hope you know what you are doing, Prince Isacor. 

Trentil said as much, only he told me I did not know what I was doing.

Trentil? Then never mind. Anything he disagrees with, I support wholeheartedly.

Once I had agreed to take Yossarian with us, I had returned to the valley in morph to inform our other two crew members. Trentil looked murderous when I left him, but I doubted even he would jeopardize our chances of escape.

Haieta was furious when she discovered that we had morphed without her, and it had taken the better part of an hour to assure her that it was not because she was a female. The rest she had not minded. Ran was agreeable in general, for which I was eternally grateful. He had become paranoid that someone would take him away from us, and Haieta was bored, so they were both eager to leave.

Yossarian had a plan to get us off the planet within the hour. I was leery, since Trentil's plan had been less than foolproof, but I agreed to listen to it. It was highly risky, full of things that could go wrong, and only had a marginal chance of success. Trentil loved it. I hated it. We were going to do it.

Our mission was simple: get to the Oberon, start her up, and fly away. The problems were complicated: how would we all get there, would our ship even work, and what would we do if the Chee decided to follow?

We Andalites could morph and get through the humans with little problem. Ran Tobir had several things working against him: he was large, conspicuous, and looked like the monsters of human mythology, as Trentil put it. Since we could not hide him, we needed a reason for him to be in the human sector. The answer came, again, from Yossarian.

"You can morph Ecks, right? Well, he's a computer, and, as we humans are fond of saying, computers break. You can pretend to break down, and I know for a fact that Andalites could not lift him, so the only one who could would be Ran. He can bring you back here." I had my doubts, both about the agreeableness of the humans, and Ran's ability to act, but time was not on our side, and it seemed more feasible than Trentil's suggestion, which was that he run very fast and maybe no one would notice.

The hardest part was convincing the Hork-Bajir that the dog was me. The rest he understood completely. When he bent down to pick me up, I was terrified for a moment that I would be speared by one of the many blades that covered his body. I should not have worried, because he was very gentle, as if he was afraid he would break me.

Haieta had said she would find her own way to Yossarian's place, and when I protested, she only laughed and said,

You think I would stay on Earth this long and not pick up a few things? I should have reprimanded her, insisted she tell me what she would do, but at this point I could feel the excitement, the anticipation of freedom, and was willing to go along with just about anything.

As Ran Tobir stepped into the camp, all noise ceased. I had my eyes closed, but I imagined that they were either retreating hastily into their scoops, or frozen in the middle of what they were doing. He slowed down, almost hesitating, but I encouraged him in thoughtspeak, and he resumed a steady pace. A murmur of voices reached my ears and I had to resist the natural impulse to twitch them so I could hear better.

Suddenly, Ran stopped in his tracks, and I heard the familiar voice of Erek the Chee.

"What is wrong?" he sounded genuinely concerned, and I realized that he had never been hostile to us, only keeping us here as a part of his duty. I hoped he would not be blamed for an escape.

"Dog is hurt. I take to Y--" he had trouble pronouncing her name, breaking it up into halting syllables "Yoh-sa-ri-en."

"I will take him." Oh. That was something I had not thought of.

"No, I must..." Ran was falling apart, giving himself away as he clutched me tighter.

Yossarian? I called out in private thoughtspeak. We have a problem. Start the Oberon; we are going to have to take off as soon as Ran and I board. If she had heard, she could not respond, and I could only hope that my message had been received.

Ran, you have to run. Follow my lead. With that, I allowed my dog body to spring to life, wriggling through the hands of the Chee and Ran as I leaped to the ground and took off running. I heard the reassuring Hork-Bajir footfalls behind me, and hoped we had gotten a lead on Erek. We would need all the time we could get.

I bounded alongside the building, towards what appeared to be a thick tangle of bushes and trees. An Earth bird flew circles above me, but there was not time to take much notice. Ran stared in surprise as I shot through the barrier as though it was air, which technically it was.

It is all right. It isn't real, I assured him from the other side, although I could no longer see him. In an instant, he was at my side again, looking thoroughly perplexed. Before us was the Oberon, and Ran's eyes flashed in recognition.

"Trees," he murmured. I could not discuss this further with him now, because from the inside of the ship, I heard the very familiar sound of the alert siren.

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*A/N*  Okay, I lied, this is going to take three chapters to finish. I tried, really, but there were some loose ends to tie up, and just general...stuff. I could have made this longer, but opted to post sooner, just for you Myst4 *grin*. Too bad it's another cliffie, eh? *hires good lawyer for impeding cliffie lawsuit* Bwahahaha!

Do I even need to tell you to review? I hope not.

FYI: I always wait for DH, Myst4, and L. Emmist to review before posting another chapter...you guys are the best! *hugs*


	20. Something Unexpected

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: I meant to update this yesterday, but things came up...but here it is!

Igloo-yes, did allude to Animorphs reunion, but not sure how to do it without stupid Ellimist interference...might not happen, but ya never know...

Liaranne-she could be a descendent of cassie, except she's very pale...and right about the birdie!

DH-nonono! I meant three chappies total, not three more. God forbid! I know the wording is strange in the last chappy, but I don't know exactly how to reword it to make it sound good...and I updated the last chappy to not overplay Haieta/father relationship...hope it works

L.Emmist-yes, we finally say bye bye to earth...and not a moment too soon! Yossarian will definitely add to the dynamic...just you wait *grins*

Myst4-thanks for the website review...and chapter review...*hires bodyguards to protect her from kidnapping* hah! *only proves she has waaay too much money* oops, no really, I'm poor *shows that they are only cardboard cutouts* see? Very lifelike...and you are right, Trentil is not a psychopath *Trentil warns her that if she ruins his reputation...* gulp, uh, mystie? Forget I said anything...*looks over shoulder nervously*

Lady Ryuki-yes, I know who you are, and thanks for the review...kinda weird getting reviews from ppl you know...

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*~*~* Chapter 20...Yossarian did not tell the whole truth...

Even as I stumbled up the boarding ramp, I was demorphing. The Oberon was likely having a field day with the number of unidentified persons on board. Above my head, I saw the bird swooping into the ship ahead of me. Haieta.

"Prince Isacor!" came the cheerful computer voice. There was a note of elation in her voice, as though she was happy to see me, and I was reminded of the brain of my dog morph. I could barely contain my smile. "Security has been breached..." At once, I realized where we were, and what we were supposed to be doing.

Never mind that! We must lift off now!

"But all members of the crew are not present--" No, they were not, and never would be. I did not know how to explain it to her in a way that she would understand, so I did not try.

Oberon, your only orders are to get us off the ground. I suggest you follow them. Was I threatening my own ship, and so soon after our reunion? What would be next?

The Chee hologram of the building had disappeared, and from the bridge I could see above me the endless blue sky, and below me the surprised faces of the entire camp. The bird landed beside me, and began to twist and change shape. I had not witnessed the morphing process properly with my eyes open, the kind without the finesse of the estreens, and the sight was decidedly unsettling. Soon, a familiar figure emerged from the shifting mass, and soon Haieta was smiling excitedly in front of me. As we rose above the trees, those on the ground faded into a green and brown background.

Our progress was slow at first, until the Oberon seemed to realize what her purpose was, and soon she was gaining speed, testing abilities six month dormant. Yossarian was looking slightly sick.

"Is she always like this?"

What, human? Too much for you to handle? Trentil sneered before I could answer her. He was in a foul mood, a combination of the insult he'd received from Yossarian, and Haieta's flashy entrance.

"No, I just thought an _Andalite_ vessel would be smoother than this." There was another jab, and I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or sincere. Haieta and Ran soon vacated the bridge to check on their respective stations, presumably to make sure nothing had been disturbed.

As we broke through the atmosphere, the Oberon informed me that there was a request for an open line of communication.

"Deny it."  
Deny it. Both Yossarian and Trentil said it at the same time, then looked at each other, first in surprise, then distrust, and finally contempt.

Disregarding them completely, I gave the affirmative to the Oberon, and Erek's image flickered before me on the screen. I remembered that their only communication equipment was in a hidden bunker somewhere. Why were they still on Earth, and not coming after us in their own ships?

"Guess my little act of sabotage worked," Yossarian commented, not without a note of satisfaction. She must have noticed my worried expression, because next she said, "Don't worry; I just cut a few lines. Nothing drastic, but it will take about a week to find and fix them all." I closed my eyes wearily for a moment, then turned my attention back to Erek, who was speaking.

"--I cannot force you to return, but I must warn you that it is strictly against Andalite law to remove a prisoner from their confines." Prisoner?

We are no prisoners.

"Not you. Yossarian." The words hit me like a well-placed blow with the flat of a tail blade. He spoke in a rush now, "There was a reason she was discharged from the military. She--" Abruptly, his voice was silenced, his image purged from the screen, leaving a flat gray panel. My stalk eyes swiveled to see Ecks, connected to one of the bridge consoles. Yossarian stood beside him, arms folded aggressively.

"I think that's enough."

"Prince Isacor, there has been a disturbance in my program. I have lost the connection." The Oberon broke in about ten seconds too late.

Yes, I know. Trentil had raided our weapons store, and now had a new, fully functional weapons belt. As soon as he realized what was happening, he had drawn his shredder, and now had it trained on her head, but she kept her eyes on me. Why did you do that? I asked her.

"What I did in the past is none of your business." She said matter-of-factly.

If the crime you have committed makes you unfit to be part of this crew, then it is everyone's concern...

"Oh, don't give me that high and mighty Andalite bullshit! Like none of you have ever done anything you were ashamed of, something you never wanted anyone to know!" There was a stunned silence while we all stood there, wondering what our fellow crewmates had done in the past; reflecting on our own mistakes. Yossarian smiled humorlessly. "No, you have no right to judge me. And get that thing out of my face!" she yelled at Trentil, who glanced at me briefly before lowering his weapon. Satisfied that she would not be shot in the back, Yossarian turned on her heel, which I was certain would make her topple to the ground, and walked out.

If you let her go, it will break your code of Andalite honor, Trentil told me mockingly.

Everyone deserves a second chance. That was not strictly in our warrior code, and wasn't even a general Andalite sentiment. It was something I had learned on my own, without the help of the fleet regulations I swore by. This whole mission was a second chance for everyone: the Oberon, Trentil, me...

My anger at the Captain had faded to merely resentment. Perhaps it was the months among the brash, hot-headed Andalites (yes, Trentil is included in that description) that made me realize how dangerous an emotion it was. Anger could make you disgrace yourself; could make you insane...

Well, do not come to me when she strands us on the Taxxon homeworld, because I will just laugh. A joke. The Taxxon homeworld does not exist anymore, thanks to an intelligence mission gone wrong. Explosives can be tricky things.

Suddenly Yossarian reappeared in the doorway again, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Um, I would have stayed mad at you longer, but do we have a destination to head for? We can't hand around Earth forever, and I've downloaded all the star charts, so the universe is ours."

Yes, we have a destination. Trentil looked at me curiously; it was the first time he had heard this.

It all came back to my feelings towards the Captain. Though I no longer felt the burning but idle need to remove his head from his shoulders, it did not mean I would forgive him. I now knew that there was more to revenge than assassination or tailfighting duels.

In case you may have forgotten, we are still on a mission. What better way to throw my humiliation back in his face than to return triumphant, completing the very thing that should have killed us? Yossarian, set us on a course for the Yeerk homeworld.

Practice was over. Now we would be keeping score.

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*A/N*  Ta daaa! Earth is history! Moving to the next plotline...and also a little bit closer to the end...*sits in shock*

Oh, I have made a website dedicated to this story...it's on my bio page...and I think it's pretty good, so if you could visit it and give me advice...would be much appreciated...*hopeful look*

Review! Pweeeze ^_^


	21. Down Time

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: Okay, this took waaay too long to write, mainly because the chapter I wrote sounded so bad that I resolved to rewrite it, and that combined with tests, homework, etc extended it to two weeks. Yarg! But enough of my excuses.

DH-Yossarian's dark past will come back to bite her in the ass one of these days...oh yes...and Alistair will come back...but can't tell you when...

Liaranne-Your questions shall be answered...not necessarily in this chapter...

Drode/L.Emmist-Yeah, didn't like the taxxon line looking back on it...hrm. Wonder why it's there?

Igloo-I live for character quirks! And don't worry bout the paragraph thing...write as long as you want!

Lady Ryuki-yeah, I forgot they had a mission too...

Myst4-nooooo, not Trentil! Evil captain dude! Not Trentil! *can't stress it enough* Revenge on Captain! Waaah!

***Summary of Previous Chapter***: Our crew makes it to the ship, barely, and manages to shut the Oberon up enough so they can get off the ground. Erek contacts them, saying they are not allowed to take a prisoner off the planet. Isacor thinks he is talking about them, but it is Yossarian he is referring to. She refuses to tell them why she is a convict, and leaves in a huff, only to return a minute later asking what their destination will be. Isacor has been musing on this very issue, and decides to go ahead and finish the mission they were sent on, ordering the Oberon to take them to the Yeerk homeworld.

*I don't know if you need this on this particular story DH, but I figure since it's prolly been a while since others have read the chapter, I would do it anyway.*

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*~*~* Chapter 21...as close to relaxation as this crew can get...

It all felt odd. We had maps, we had an engineer, and there were no serious problems with the Oberon. In fact, our ship seemed to have gotten some intelligence since she was rebooted. I wondered if Yossarian had been tampering with her programming again. Other than the alarm that had been sounded at the invasion of several unidentified passengers, she had done nothing out of sync. It was almost like a normal mission. Almost.

Since when did we have a mission? Trentil and I were in the dome, now newly renovated with Earthen grass and trees, and a working stream that cut a winding path among them. He was facing me; tail arced menacingly over his head, which was a good half-foot above my own. I did the same, but with less enthusiasm. Even though it was practice, having him looming over me like that was unnerving, especially with the look he was giving me right now.

The captain should have briefed you. Ah, yes, the captain. The killer. No, the murderer, because as Trentil said, we are all killers in this war. Anyone who could order a whole squadron to their deaths and not blink an eye for their loss did not deserve anyone's trust; and yet I had believed him when he said my crew was fully briefed.

Perhaps the question meant nothing. It was entirely plausible that he was simply trying to catch me off my guard. All my eyes focused on him: main on his face, stalk on his tail. Any move he made would give him away.

His attack was smooth and swift; a perfect attack, but the angle so wide that I easily blocked it. He was testing me, trying to find a weakness while it was still early. Quickly, I whipped back my tail and struck out again, while his tail was still down, but he just barely blocked it. He remained smug even in his surprise at my aggressive attack.

At least I won't be fighting a complete female. I narrowed my eyes, but he only laughed and lunged again. It soon became a pattern: strike, block, strike, block. I was doing most of the blocking, because I couldn't match Trentil's speed or height advantage. And yet, between each attack, we managed a conversation.

I had no briefing for this mission.

Would you even remember if you had? Did I say that out loud?

I always remember, he emphasized, glaring at me. What is the mission? So that was what all the talking in circles had been. All he wanted to know was the mission. He should have said so.

The Yeerks are doing something to their old warships, the ones that were not to, under any circumstances be removed from their positions, and we have to find out what. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, which I should have used as an opening, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.

They are probably selling them to the Skrit Na, I almost felt relief until he continued speaking. or conducting an undercover operation that will revive the empire and bring war to the galaxies once more.

"Tough call, that." Yossarian's voice came out of nowhere, and involuntarily my stalk eyes swung around to where she was standing behind me. Trentil took the opportunity to shove my tail aside and end the practice; my life too, had it been a real battle. I stared at the tip of his blade positioned directly at the main artery running through my neck.

But...I was distracted! That does not count!

There are many distractions in battle, Prince Isacor. You must learn to ignore them, or... he made a swift slicing motion across my throat, and smirked in satisfaction when I flinched at the breeze that ruffled my fur.

"Well, when you big strong _men_ are finished with your inane ritual--"

Training. Trentil growled. She snorted.

"Yeah, cuz you Andalites get so close to the enemy that you can actually use those tails."

Of course not. I told her helpfully. That would be impractical.

That was sarcasm, Prince Isacor.

What?

She was emphasizing the fact that we would not be that close to the enemy.

Then why did she--?

Let it go, Prince Isacor! And again I was excluded from this mysterious language of humans.

"Don't worry about it," Yossarian reassured me. "A lot of humans don't get it, either." I felt the involuntary twinge at being compared to one of them, the result of inherent Andalite arrogance, I suppose. I managed to shake it off; if I was going to have a human on my crew, such narrow-mindedness would have to go.

What was it you wanted, Yossarian? I asked, steering the conversation away from my blunder. My engineer frowned, put her hand to her forehead. Suddenly, a violent tremor wracked her body, and both her hands flew to the front of her face to muffle the sound. Trentil and I both jumped.

What was that?

"Huh? Oh, that was a sneeze. I think I'm coming down with something." I wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but she barely paused before continuing. "I thought you should know that all of the Oberon's programming has been activated. You said she was a prototype, right?"

That is correct.

"I should warn you then. In these types of ships, experimental ones, there are generally some latent programs that were failures, but people are too lazy to remove completely. It is possible that I could have activated some of these, but until they assert themselves, it won't be obvious what they are. And on this kind of ship, I shudder to think what the Andalite scientists have come up with."

So much for a normal mission.


	22. Virus

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***:

Liaranne-I'm not sure if I would call it important, or just random...but both her cold and the oberon's programming come up again...

Myst4-*Trentil slashes party hat into confetti with his tailblade while it flies through the air* he's so rude...Isacor may have some skill with tailfighting, but nothing can outshine Trentil! *now must think of some way to deflate Trentil's ego...* hehehe

L. Emmist-That part about Ran really bothers me. Him and Haieta. I'm gonna have to find something for them to do...Haieta gets her chance in this chapter...oh, and sometime, I _will_ read your newest story in full and submit a review...I could only skim it today...is it ongoing, or just that?

Lady Ryuki-aw, man, does that mean I have to start writing chapter summaries before every chapter *yes it does* okay then.

DH-oooo, viruses. Haven't thought out that angle yet *grins evilly and scampers off to her notebook*

***Summary of Previous Chapter***: geez, I don't have time right now...will do it later, promise!

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*~*~* Chapter 22...an exercise in restraint...Yossarian gives something to the crew...

Yossarian, if you will not report to sick bay on your own, then we shall have to tranquilize you and carry you there.

"I'm telling you, it's probably just a cold! All humans get them. I don't need doctor Holier-than-thou to tell me that."

On the one side, there was me, making empty threats in an effort to force my new engineer to see Haieta. On the other was a stubborn human who did not trust our medical technology and insisted on making an analysis herself.

Prince Isacor, I believe you gave her fair warning. May I shoot her now? Trentil glared at the human with all four eyes, and I asked myself again why I had brought him along. Trentil and Haieta in the same room was irritating, but he and Yossarian could be downright dangerous, as she had a habit of provoking his anger on purpose.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have no people skills?"

I am a weapons officer, not an ambassador.

"That's very reassuring. I'm glad you know your place."

I closed my eyes wearily, hoping Trentil would not take the opportunity to strike out at Yossarian. While this had not been as bad as other times, it could escalate in a matter of seconds.

***_flashback***_

Their first episode had been soon after we had made the jump to z-space for the journey to the Yeerk homeworld, and almost directly following the tailfighting exercise in the dome. I had gone to the engineering room, determined to learn exactly what could be expected from these dormant programs that had been activated. While I did not learn anything of usefulness there, Trentil and I were recruited into helping her clean up the place; or rather, I helped, and Trentil hovered nearby, protesting forcefully at whatever we moved, and making a general nuisance of himself. He thought that making any alteration in the room was an insult to Dendar's memory.

If he put it there, it must have been for a reason!

"No, it's sloppy. Any mechanic that leaves tools lying around is asking for trouble." As if to prove her point, she grabbed the pile of things and shoved them into a drawer. "I don't see why you're putting up such a big stink about it. What, was he your boyfriend or something?" It was an off-hand, sarcastic (I knew the meaning of the word now) remark, but as expected, Trentil took it personally. With a feeling that I had done this before, I found my tail between him and Yossarian, hoping he would not turn on me as well.

Trentil, stop. I tried to make my thoughts forceful, a reprimand. I am captain, I am captain, I am captain...She was not serious.

"Oh, looks as though I touched a nerve though," I heard her snicker, which did not help matters in the slightest.

I will not be insulted in this manner! Trentil told me loudly, and I tried in vain to think of what Dendar would do; what he would say. He could calm anyone with a word, but me, I had to use a different tactic.

Yossarian, you must not speak ill of the dead. Trentil, you should not even be here. It was not eloquent, but it was enough to avoid a scene. I was relieved that I at least had some semblance of control over my crew.

***

Thinking back, perhaps it was time to employ this same 'separation' tactic.

Trentil, please go away. Yossarian, report to sick bay. She grumbled as Trentil stalked off, fuming, yet still making it seem as though it had been his idea to leave. I decided to appeal to the only logical being there. Ecks? Please make sure she goes. The brown and white dog wagged his back end and turned his attention to his charge, who brushed past me and out the door of the engineering room. Haieta would not appreciate having an unwilling patient, but ever since Yossarian had continued with her "sneezing" and complaining of being too hot when the temperature was rigidly controlled, I was determined to discover the cause. The last thing I needed was to lose another engineer, and it was making me paranoid.

Actually, these days it was Haieta I worried about the most. She was almost always by herself, an unhealthy habit that had become more pronounced after we had left Earth. Yossarian, the only fellow female, scorned her, saying "She's a god damned priss!" I was not exactly sure what the word, or even the phrase, meant, but it obviously was not a compliment.

Ran Tobir liked her, but he liked everyone, and was generally useless for carrying on a conversation. Also, since he had discovered that his trees had been saved and transplanted into the new Earth grass, he had relegated himself there when he was not cooking for Yossarian and himself.

Even Trentil was ignoring her now, still angry over the morphing incident. He could not handle the fact that her plan, morphing an Earth bird to sneak aboard the ship, had gone off without a hitch, while his had been the result of careful orchestration; by a human female, no less. It was incredible how long he could carry a grudge.

This left me, but even I, deemed the nicest now that Dendar was gone, had a limit as to how long I could listen to her rail against inequality and my gender. I almost thought it would be better to have her and Trentil fight; maybe then I would not feel so guilty, like I was abandoning her. I was hoping that examining Yossarian would break her solemn mood. I was not sure how much Haieta knew about alien physiology, but seeing as we now had two of said aliens on board, perhaps it was time she learned.

I had never asked much of her, I realized, either before or after Dendar's death. It seemed as though I was always talking to the others, but what could one discuss with the physician of a six-member crew? Anything she knew about our health, I was already aware of.

***

One hour. I paced the dome in agitation. I had passed most of the time in conversation, but there was only so much one could talk about with the Oberon and Ran, and Trentil was off sulking somewhere. It had been one hour since Yossarian had gone to sick bay. Had they killed each other? Had she even made it there? My mind was running through all the possible scenarios, when Haieta's faint thoughtspeak reached me.

Prince Isacor, I think you will want to come here.

What is it? There was a hesitation.

I do not know.

Not surprisingly, Trentil was waiting outside the door when I arrived. Haieta's cryptic message was enough to make anyone curious. He waited until I went in before following, wanting to appear to have been brought here by force. Sometimes he really was transparent.

Haieta was a wreck. She paced about the room frantically, and did not even seem to see us. I had never seen her this way before; she was usually calm and collected, until Trentil rubbed her the wrong way. Yossarian herself was sitting on a table, swinging her legs.

What is wrong?

"I told you guys, but no, you had to make a bigger issue than it was."

It is a virus, Prince Isacor. I heard her thoughts tremble slightly. She acknowledges it.

"Yeah, a _cold_ virus. No big deal."

I researched it, Prince Isacor. It is highly contagious, but not fatal.

Does it affect us? Most human diseases were not harmful to Andalites, but there were always exceptions. And we had been exposed to it. Uneasily, I remembered the number of times Yossarian had sneezed in my presence. I clung to the hope of immunity until Haieta's eyes met mine. The look she gave me told me everything I was afraid to hear.

It was going to be a very long flight.


	23. Surfacing

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: Yes, this took a while. Writer's block sucks.

Liaranne-here, you may find out now!

Myst4-why am I always preventing people from doing there homework? I sorta feel bad about it...or maybe not...

Lady Ryuki-yeah, aren't the kitties cuuuute?

DH-hmm, computer virus *wheels in head start turning*

L.Emmist-why, thank you...and here we have the sick Andalites. Woo.

***Summary of Previous Chapter***

Isacor forces Yossarian to see our friendly doctor Haieta for her continued sneezing, while simultaneously trying to keep her and Trentil from killing each other. He is called to sick bay later, where he discovers the affliction...a cold. Not only that, but it seems to be one of the only sicknesses that affects Andalites. Oh my.

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*~*~* Chapter 23...unpleasant surprises...

One would think that a sickness would be an opportunity for bonding, a chance to be united in our misery and support each other through it. I knew it would not be this way for us. I was only thankful that we did not murder each other in our sleep.

The worst part was not even the fact that nearly every member of our crew now had a "cold," the only incurable sickness in Andalite history. Only Ran Tobir seemed to be immune to its effects, and did not understand our complaints, or why we looked at him murderously whenever he tried to ask us why.

Nor was it the fact that our noses leaked fluid that I was sure did not exist anywhere in our bodies. It was not even the three-way bickering between Yossarian, Haieta, and Trentil, although at one point in my delirium (I would like to think I was delirious) that jettisoning them out into space sounded like a very good idea. No, the real frustration lay in the Oberon's latent programming, which just happened to surface when I thought things could not get any worse.

We were all collapsed in the dome, thankful for the softness of earthen grass, too dizzy to even attempt to stay upright, while Ran made an old Hork-Bajir remedy that supposedly cured everything. Trentil was systematically cursing everything leading up to this, which included me, for being the cause of this mission, Yossarian, the cause of the sickness, Haieta, for naming it, Ran, for his immunity, and the Oberon, for just being there.

Stupid humans, he said in summary. It was obvious who he held responsible.

"Oh, sure, blame the minority. You know, 50 years ago I could have sued you for that."

Trentil, it is that kind of racist mindset that obstructs progress for all classes. Guess who.

So you are saying this is not her fault? Haieta faltered at that, and her stalk eyes turned to me. I knew what would come next, and wanted no part of it.

Prince Isacor...

Why does everyone think I can solve their problems?

Because you can. You are our leader. Trentil listens to you. I could not help it. I laughed; but instantly felt sorry when I saw her hurt expression.

When has he _ever_ listened to me?

Do you hear him denying it? Both our sets of stalk eyes turned towards him, and even that small movement made my head throb even more. I did not think it possible for every one of my hearts to be beating inside my skull at once until just then.

I think we need a new doctor. he grumbled. That still wasn't a denial, but did not sound like an affirmative either. Before I could say anything more, the Oberon broke in.

"Prince Isacor, my sensors indicate that I am malnourished. There is a specific phrase I am supposed to tell you when this happens," she said abruptly, and seemingly out of the blue.

What?

"Uh oh." That was Yossarian, who had been the only one sitting upright this entire time, and was now rising off the ground, nearly effortlessly. I hated her right then. Why could I not do that? Ecks, who up until this point had been curled up in a simulated sleep, was already on his feet, ears forward.

"I am hungry." The Oberon said, experimentally. "That is the phrase. I am hungry." She said it with more enthusiasm, something I had not thought her capable of. Ran brightened noticeably at this.

"I cook food?" he had become quite adept at using the human food preparation facilities, and took any chance to show off. I shook my head at him, and addressed the Oberon.

How can you be hungry? You are a ship, you do not need to eat.

"I have been programmed to feel hunger."

Who came up with that idiot idea? Trentil said scornfully. There was a silence, as though the ship was contemplating the question. Then:

"I am hungry."

"Um, you know those programs I may have accidentally activated?" Yossarian sounded slightly embarrassed. "I think this may be one of them. It would make sense, anyway. When they first test a prototype AI, they usually use basic urges or instincts to get a response."

Can you disable it? I asked worriedly.

"I can try."

The entire trip to engineering, a total of 100 feet, took about thirty minutes, most of which was spent trying to pick ourselves up from the ground. Ran supported Haieta and I, while Trentil, refusing all help, wobbled unsteadily on his own down the hallway.

"You Andalites don't take well to sickness, do you?" That was an understatement. In addition to the mysterious running noses and dizziness at any sudden movement, our body temperatures would radically fluctuate; leaving us overheated one moment and chilled the next. For the first time, I realized that I may have underestimated humans as a species. After all, if Yossarian could remain functional, on _two_ legs, no less, that had to say something.

Ecks was connected in a matter of seconds, eyes clouding as he sifted through the Oberon's programming. As I should have expected, she put herself on high alert, the alarm's strident call now ten times louder to my sensitized ears.

"Prince Isacor, there has been an intrusion into my core programming. I am taking defensive action."

All of a sudden, Ecks leapt backward, as though something had shocked him, pulling his chord out of the wall and emitting a strange high-pitched yip.

"Shit!" Yossarian rushed to his side. "What kind of sick freak would put hostile-intrusion software in a ship like this?" she fumed.

What happened? I had never seen the Oberon react so...violently to something, and it unnerved me.

"Another program," she growled as Ecks regained his senses, "to protect against hackers. Unfortunately it also hinders any maintenance to the system. Now I'm gonna have to have Ecks write a virus to disable it, and hopefully it won't damage the rest of her..." I shivered at the mention of the word 'virus.' I did not like the sound of this at all.

If the entire program is in danger, we cannot risk it. It will have to wait until we reach a planet. I had no intention of repeating our fiasco above earth, sitting around, watching the oxygen levels fall...The worst thing that could happen now was that we would be driven insane by--

"Prince Isacor, I am hungry." That.

"Suck it up!" Yossarian snapped irritably at her.

"Your command is unregistered," the Oberon told her coolly. "Prince Isacor, we have arrived at our destination."

Take us out of zero space once I get to the bridge, I said automatically. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. I wanted this done. As I started my unsteady trek, the others fell in step beside me.

"What? Just step out into enemy territory? Are you crazy?"

In case you have not noticed, the war is over, Trentil told her loftily.

He is right, I told her quickly, seeing that she was about to open her mouth again. When it ended, the Yeerks were confined to their homeworld, left with only the hosts they had. Anything potentially threatening was removed. Weapons, ships...there is no way they can harm us.

"Whatever, it's still a bad idea. You guys ever hear of world war one?" We all stared blankly at her, even Trentil. I suppose even he did not know everything. "It was over a hundred and fifty years ago. There was a war, the Great War, they called it, the war that would end all wars..." her story was cut off, as we arrived at the bridge. I was not sure I wanted to hear it, as it reminded me too much of what our leaders had said. The final war. The last war.

Without thinking, I walked in. The Oberon, forever literal, had taken us out of z-space as soon as my hoof touched the floor, and the viewing screen, which had been a continuous white thus far, suddenly flickered to show a planet. We were here.

I was about to open a line of communication to secure a landing site, when I noticed something else registering on the screen. Another ship?

"Prince Isacor, there is another ship in our proximity," the Oberon informed me.

Focus in, My head still felt hazy, and my eyes did not seem to want to function correctly. At once the image was magnified, and at the same time, there was a unified gasp among everyone except Yossarian.

It was the mysterious ship that had tracked us from the Hork-Bajir homeworld to Earth through z-space. The one that had killed Dendar.

The ship we had destroyed.


	24. Secrets and Lies

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga (I'm not apologizing for the title! I have become quite attached to it, actually.)  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** alright, I don't own Animorphs or Catch-22 or Cowboy Bebop. Just covering all bases...  
  
**Description:** By this time, you should know the basic premise, right?  
  
***A/N***: This was way too long in coming, especially since it has been in written form for at least the past week, and I have been just too lazy to type it up. Sorry.

L.Emmist-Man, the one typo in the chapter, and you find it! Yeah, I fixed it now, I think, and my sister pointed it out right after I posted it, and I said "aw, no one's going to notice that!" serves me right. Go you!

Myst4-of course Andalites don't shake their heads, what was I thinking? I must be getting my facts mixed up...or I was looking for variety...I'm not sure if I fixed that or not...*is too tired to look now* anyway...hologram? I am soooo more original than that! *grins* read on and seeeee...

Liaranne-yes, cliffie! *evil laugh* they are a reoccurring element here! I like the wwi reference too *is proud of self* eventually Yossarian will finish that story...

DH-yes, secret counter-attack *taps fingers* all does not go as planned. Trentil with a cold... 0.0 *runs and hides*

Lady Ryuki-Yeah, they are kinda whiny, aren't they? But they don't really get sick that much, so...*shrugs* I know how you feel.

Winklebee-*feels special* thank you! And I like it when people guess, even when they're right *looks pointedly at DH* it's uncanny!

***Summary of Previous Chapter*  
**The crew try to battle with colds, and it is discovered that the Oberon's latent programming includes not only one to make her feel hunger (and let everyone know about it) but also one that prevents Ecks from accessing her data. Yossarian begins a story that sounds eerily like that of the Yeerk wars, only it occurred over 150 years ago, but is cut off when they arrive at the Yeerk homeworld, and come face to face with the ship that has haunted their nightmares since earth...

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*~*~* Chapter 24...the crew confronts the thing they fear the most...and Yossarian's secret is revealed...

It could not have been the same ship, of course. That one was in particles orbiting about Earth. This meant there was another, one with the same power of destruction.

Stations, I commanded. Trentil was the first one out of the room, without one of his irritating retorts. He was too excited to worry about that. I was too worried to be excited about anything. Haieta and Ran were more reluctant in their exit; at their stations they usually could not see or hear anything, and they expertise was rarely needed.

"What's going on? Isn't that one of your ships?" Yossarian asked, looking decidedly nervous. We Andalites all froze in our paths and stared at her in shock. She thought that, THAT atrocity was an Andalite ship?

No, of course not, I told her, aware that I sounded, as she would say, snippy. And Yossarian, you have to obey the orders you are given when you are a part of this crew. I heard Trentil's thoughtspeak laugh, not quite as derisive as usual because of his cold. We both ignored him.

"Ay ay, sir!" she raised two fingers to her forehead before taking leave of me, which was either a sign of respect, or an insult I was too dense to understand. I chose to believe the former.

The bridge was emptied now, except for me, and I was glad; now the others would not be able to see me shaking in fear. I could still play the role of the fearless leader somewhat convincingly.

Trentil, ready your weapons. Yossarian, watch the monitors and report any malfunction. We cannot afford to be disabled. Not a waver in my thoughts. I was proud.

The ship was forming an arc, headed back our way. This was a different tactic from our previous encounter, where the ship had not moved much at all. There was no time to ponder this, as we suddenly came under attack from rapid dracon fire. The Oberon did not move, and I wondered for one terrible instant if she was waiting for instruction. I need not have worried, for the beams broke up harmlessly against an invisible wall. A shield? I never knew we had one.

"Shield cover has been reduced by 50%, Prince Isacor." So much for that.

Perform evasive maneuvers. Keep that ship in sight. I wanted Trentil to have a clear shot at it, especially if it tried to use the weapon that could reduce us to a cloud of matter like its brother. Fire when ready, Trentil.

Why, thank you Captain, he replied, making it quite clear, in those five words, that if he wanted to fire, he would do it, with or without my permission.

Our adversary rounded on us again, and let loose a continuous stream of dracon fire, laying waste to the last of our shield. The floor lurched beneath my feet as the Oberon tried to avoid the attack, but I felt her shudder, and panic was starting to take hold.

Damage report. I said shakily, forgetting that Yossarian had no thoughtspeak capabilities. The Oberon came to my rescue.

"Minimal, Prince Isacor. I am still fully functional." On the screen, I could see our shredders firing, but they were having little effect on their own shields. Trentil was letting loose a stream of foul language, and I hoped that Haieta was out of thoughtspeak range, as I did not expect she would appreciate some of the references.

The ship came around again, but seemed to hesitate in their turn. Before I could take advantage of their uncertainty, they disappeared into z-space. I stood in a stunned silence.

Did they just retreat? They did not just retreat! Trentil raved bitterly.

It appears so. Yossarian, please assess the damage to the Oberon, so we can arrange for the necessary--

"Yossarian is not currently at her station," the Oberon broke in.

What? Where is she?

"Hiding beneath a table in engineering."

What was she doing there? Now that the rush of panic was draining, I was reminded that I was sick. My legs wobbled and my head spun; I closed my eyes and willed my mind to think straight. Was this another strange human custom? Or had something happened, something only the Oberon would consider "minimal" damage.

When I arrived at the engineering room, it seemed deserted, but nothing was out of place. There had not been an explosion, or anything else that would explain Yossarian's actions.

My eyes scanned the room, finding nothing out of place, and finally settling on Ecks, seated protectively in front of one of the heavy tables that were bolted to the floor. When he saw me, he moved to one side so I could see Yossarian huddled underneath, knees tucked under her jaw, eyes staring past me, rocking back and forth slightly.

Yossarian? I stepped closer, against my better judgment. I hated to look down on her, but I was afraid that if I tried to bring myself to her level, I would never get up again. She was not answering me. Why are you down there?

"It all sounds the same. I thought it would be different, somehow. Shouldn't it be different?"

What? her words were coming out in a rush, and as she looked up at me imploringly, I wondered if what the children on earth said was true, that she was crazy.

"The fighting. The dying. Nothing has changed."

Yossarian, no one has died. I told her gently, while slowly edging away. She looked up at me with a frightening smile.

"But they did, didn't they? They died and you didn't even know it, couldn't even hear..." I thought of Dendar. What she said was true. I hadn't even known when he died, there was only...silence. She drew in a deep breath, and her face became almost normal. "You want to know why I was a prisoner, don't you?" I was not sure I did anymore, but apparently Yossarian was going to tell me. She leaned forward, and when she next spoke it was in her normal voice, a matter of fact voice, betraying none of the helplessness I had seen earlier.

"Because I was afraid of dying like that; where no one would notice. I was afraid at I ran. Our military does not take kindly to deserters, but normally you get a dishonorable discharge and that's the it. They couldn't do that to me, because I knew too much, you know? I knew things that could hurt them, if they got into the wrong hands. Who was to say I would not switch sides?"

Would you? It seemed inconceivable to me that anyone could do something like that. If Andalites were like that, our entire fleet would be in disarray.

"I guess we'll never know." She pulled herself out from under the table and stood, brushing herself off. It was as though I had been spoken to by an entirely different person, a side of my engineer I had never seen before. "So there you have it. I'm a coward. What are you going to do about it?" She knew the answer already. We could not survive without her. Somehow, it did not bother me as much as it should have. It must have been the cold, warping my thoughts.

I will do nothing, for now. We have to concentrate on the mission. That had been easy to say when we still had to get to the Yeerk homeworld, but we were here, so now what? Pardon us, Yeerks, but we think your former Empire is staging a comeback. Tell us, is this true?

I left Yossarian to analyze the damage, returning to the bridge. No sooner had I re-entered, when Trentil began interrogating me.

Why are we not readying an attack? They could come out of z-space at any moment-

They could, but I doubt it. If they had wanted to destroy us, they would have done so already. I had my own suspicions as to why we had been abandoned so suddenly, but none I cared to share with Trentil. I still did not trust him to follow orders, and the last thing I needed was a rogue weapons officer. The Oberon, feeling she had been silent long enough, cut off any argument Trentil could have made.

"We are receiving a transmission from the Yeerk planet surface. Would you like to receive it, Prince Isacor?" So the Yeerks were trying to contact us. Would it be with an explanation, or better yet, a confession?

Put it through on the screen. There was a flicker, and the face of a human male replaced the empty space. I flinched when I saw him. He had lost most of his hair on his head, and what remained clung sparsely about his ears. His skin was hanging off his face, creating deep folds and lines around his eyes and mouth. What had caused this...mutation?

"Andalites," he said, a neutral smile playing over his misshapen face. "I see you have also encountered our mysterious ship."

What was that? I asked him, trying not to appear flustered in front of a Yeerk.

"We are not certain, but they appeared several weeks ago and destroyed the Andalite dome ship stationed above us, and then disappeared. We thought we had seen the last of them, but..." he spread his hands futilely.

They have attacked only Andalites?

"As far as we know, yes."

You do not seem very upset by this.

"You must know there is no love lost between us, Andalite. I would be lying if I said I was sorry." He had a point. We had imprisoned them on a planet with a limited number of hosts and unlimited number of Yeerks. It would be suspicious if there was no animosity.

We were sent here to look into the disappearance of the warships, Yeerk. There was a kind of snarl in the way I said 'Yeerk' that I could not hide. If he would not ask my name, I would not ask his. Is a docking station prepared? Something seemed to flicker behind his eyes, but the next moment it was gone.

"Ah, yes, the ships. We believe it was the Skrit Na. Can't keep their thieving claws to themselves. And without weapons, we cannot do much to stop them." He glanced sideways, away from the screen, looking at someone out of sight, then turned back to us. "Your station is prepared. We shall guide you down." The transmission ended. There was a nervous energy gathering in my stomach, and I was not sure if it was  the fever, or the prospect of going down into the very bowels of the enemy.


	25. Walking with the Enemy

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Rub it in, why don't you? Hrmph.  
   
***A/N***: Ooo, looky at my chapter-ness! This chapter will be dedicated to Myst4, for guilt-tripping me into typing it up. See, it can be done!

L.Emmist-you still haven't told me the typos from the last chapter...ya big meanie!

Liaranne-all questions will be answered...unfortunately, not in this chapter :)

Lady Ryuki-do I look like I have anything to submit? This is my life! *grin* I know I have grammer errors, I just want other people to point them out to me...

Myst4-hope all is well where you are! I can put the 8 year old in my cupboard and let you borrow Trentil...*wide grin*

DH-I'm glad I'm still a little funny at least...I was afraid I might have been winding down...that would really suck...

***Summary of Previous Chapter*  
**A battle is begun between the Oberon and the mystery ship, but just as the crew are about to get their butts kicked, the ship suddenly disappears into z-space. Isacor tries to locate Yossarian, who abandoned her post, and discovers that she is a coward under fire, the reason for her imprisonment on earth. With no time to think, he is contacted by the Yeerk homeworld, who claim to have no knowledge of the ship (yeah, right), only that they came before and destroyed the Andalite sentry posted at the homeworld. Our heroes are now preparing to touch down onto the planet of their enemies *suspenseful music is heard*

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*~*~* Chapter 25...a tour of the Yeerk world...Isacor gets another morph...Ran becomes useful...and, as always, a cliffie... ^_^

I had not realized until we were entering the docking bay, that it would not be the best idea to let the Yeerks know we had a mixed crew. Andalite flight crews were simply that: Andalite. There had been talk of integration in recent years, but as of yet there was no part of the Fleet who was willing to try it. Humans could be brilliant technicians, but were not to be trusted with anything as important as a ship. I was not certain I felt the same way. Our crew did not work together in a seamless effort, like many Andalite crews I had seen, or been a part of, but one had to admire the fact that thus far, we had narrowly escaped destruction twice by an unknown enemy that outclassed us. The Yeerks, I felt, would not appreciate this so much, plus there was the issue of Andalite pride; so the last few minutes, while the Oberon maneuvered us into place, were spent in a rush to hide Ran Tobir, Yossarian, and Ecks from sight. 

Trentil used the opportunity to inform me that Haieta should stay as well, since females on crews were also not common place, and, in his words, she would be nothing but a burden.

How dare you let him speak to me this way, Prince Isacor! I refuse to be left behind! You would not leave me here, would you? She looked at me worriedly, as though afraid I might be listening to Trentil. I told her of course not, but decided to leave out my explanation, that leaving her on the Oberon would mean I would have to be alone with Trentil, as it would only upset her.

One of the most frightening sounds to a captain's ears is their ship powering down around them. It could be in the safety of a Dome or station ship, and still my hearts would skip a beat at the end of every exercise, when our fighters returned to their stations. There was always that fear that it would happen in open space, out of reach, beyond help. Experiencing it before did not help matters.

The Oberon had balked at the idea of closing her eyes, so to speak. She informed me that, in her database, the Yeerks were still classified as an enemy. In the end, she had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and so now Trentil, Haieta, and I prepared to meet, or possibly confront, the Yeerks for the first time. As we descended the exit ramp, into the docking bay, I saw the Yeerk who had greeted us, and it was an effort not to wince at his features. Beside him stood another human-controller, and Hork-Bajir, both in the same deteriorating condition. Was this some kind of disease? It occurred to me to ask Trentil, but I felt it would be rude to discuss it in front of them, even if it was private thoughtspeak.

"Welcome, Andalites," the leader said with an insincere smile. "Allow me to show you around." In other words, _we have nothing to hide. Go about your business and leave_.

The Yeerk's architecture was as I expected it to be, far too big for any practical use. The ceilings toward above us a good twenty feet, and every room, while it was good for any claustrophobic Andalite, seemed oddly bare and disused. Occasionally we would meet another controller in the hallways, who would duck their head and walk faster.

There was one point where we nearly collided with a pair of human-controllers who had emerged from a small door in the wall. They looked like normal humans, and it was comforting to know that there were some who did not suffer from this disturbing disease. They stopped in their tracks and stared at us in a horrified fascination, until the Hork-Bajir barked something at them, and they scurried away. Trentil had stared at them, eyes narrowed, the whole time. He really was rude.

After we had taken a tour of the facility, the Yeerk led us to the hangers, where the great warships had been housed. Now there was only a gargantuan docking bay, and rows of empty docks.

Well, I said uncertainly. What was I supposed to do now? Look for clues? There was nothing here! The Yeerk's smile was just barely perceptible; he was thinking the same thing. I glanced at the others with my stalk eyes, but they just looked at me blankly.

I pretended to look about, and asked a few questions about the disappearance, succeeding only in convincing the Yeerks that I was a complete idiot. To my credit, Trentil was faring no better. He gave no belittling advice to me, only glared coldly at our guides while I fumbled around. Haieta did not even seem to be on the same wavelength as us, as she merely peered at the Yeerks, as though trying to diagnose their medical condition. She did this the entire time.

I was nearly convinced that the Yeerks were telling the truth, that the warships had been commandeered by the Skrit Na. It would be a prime target; undefended artifacts begging to be put in one of their hideous museums. The only thing that bothered me was how they had slipped past the Andalite sentry. The species was notoriously stupid, and even if they had used a cloaking device, it could not stand up to our scanning technology. I was willing to bet that even the Oberon could detect them.

"If you are finished with your inspection, Andalites, may we escort you back to your ship?" This led to another voyage through the cavernous building, now completely deserted. We met no one on the way back. As we reached the docking bay, the misshapen leader inquired. "How long may we expect you to stay with us?"

Prince Isacor, Trentil's thoughts broke into my own, before I could formulate a reply. They are hiding something. We must look further into this. We need time.

We will need a standard day to make repairs, I told them, suspecting that Yossarian would have them finished by the time we re-entered the ship. To Trentil privately, I said, we will need morphs.

I think we both had the same idea (Haieta still in her own world of medical textbooks) because we both stepped forward in unison and extended our weak Andalite hands.

I believe it is a human custom to clasp hands when an event has concluded. Even I knew that this gesture did not apply to enemies, but I could think of no better excuse. Haieta stared, not believing that we were willingly touching Yeerks. The human-controller looked at me suspiciously, but extended his own hand. I took it with great reluctance, trying to ignore the feel of his loosely connected skin sliding freely across his hand. I had to concentrate. As I held an image of him inside my head, I felt his grip, painfully tight on my hand, relax. I always forget how strong humans are. As soon as I could, I pulled away, and assumed Trentil had done the same.

I did not acquire anyone, Haieta complained when the Yeerks had left.

You would not be able to handle a human morph, Trentil told her loftily.

And Prince Isacor can? He has only morphed once! That was not entirely true. The many weeks of travel had left plenty of time to practice morphing in my quarters, and even though it had only been one morph, I felt I had improved. It had also helped to lessen the effects of the cold, gradually purging the bacteria from my body.

Well, then, I will ask the Yeerks to come back so you may acquire them. Would that be acceptable to you, your highness?

I am not even going to dignify that with a reply, Haieta said icily.

Is it possible for you two to wait until we are inside the ship to start your shouting match? It is embarrassing. I brushed past them and ascended the ramp leading into the Oberon, at the same time wracking my brain for a way to solve this dilemma.

"Andalites are gone so long with bad Yeerks. We think you were in trouble!" Ran jumped out in front of me, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we were all present.

"Who's _we_?" Yossarian came towards me, arms folded. "They were only gone an hour." Her eyes were fixed on a spot beyond me, anywhere but my eyes. "I've made the basic repairs, sir. She'll fly."

We are not leaving yet. There is something wrong about this place. We will look closer. I was focusing my main eyes on Ran Tobir now. If he was only a little more withered and stooped, he would be identical to the Hork-Bajir from earlier... Could Haieta acquire him? I asked Trentil.

But he is not deformed! How could he pass among them? Haieta broke in.

"Wait, they're deformed? Someone fill me in here." Yossarian and Ran Tobir had not seen the Yeerk host bodies...they did not know.

Their skin hangs off their bodies as if it is too big, and there are a large number of folds in them, I tried to explain, but her face was blank.

"Sorry, I need a visual." With a sinking feeling, I realized I would have to morph this creature in front of her. Closing my eyes, I focused on the picture in my head. I could not see my eye stalks receding into my skull, or my fur disappearing, but rather felt an acute bereftness. My spinal column shifted, and I felt a pair of my legs begin to fail in their support. I tried to quicken the morphing process, hoping that there was some natural sense of balance humans used to keep themselves upright. My hooves broadened into human feet, steadying my teetering frame. The morph was nearly completed, when Yossarian began to protest.

"Okay, stop. Stop. No, stop! Augh! That was something no one should ever see!" I opened one eye slowly, and saw her turned away from me, hands over her eyes. That was when I fell over.

"What did I do? Do. Dooooo." I had discovered the joy of mouth-sounds. "What. Wha-tuh. What."

"Oh, man, that could have been my grandfather..." Yossarian was muttering to herself. "Warn me the next time you're going to morph an old guy." She shuddered.

"Old? Ooold. duh."

This is the normal aging process for humans. I could have told you if you'd only asked. I glared at Trentil from the floor. He had to let me make a fool of myself, when he knew the answer...and why was I even surprised? It was in his nature. And Prince Isacor, you need to stop doing that.

"Doing...ooo-ing, ing, ing-

That. Do not play with the sounds. They will know we are Andalites if you do. I closed my mouth, not trusting myself to reply.

What about me? Haieta interrupted. I still need a morph. Again, I looked at Ran. He was older, but not nearly as old as the Hork-Bajir we had seen. Yossarian was shaking her head. She knew what I was thinking. Human emotions must me more easily read than an Andalite's.

"If Hork-Bajir age the same as humans, he doesn't look old enough."

Are you all blind? Trentil shouted out of nowhere. Haieta glared at him.

Yes, Trentil. Please enlighten us with your superior eyesight.

They were not all old. Some were in their prime. Doesn't that make you suspicious?

"Should it? Sh-oould. it-uh." Oops. Trentil sighed heavily.

I suppose you do not know either? he asked Yossarian grudgingly. At her blank stare, he seemed to resign himself to our incompetence. The war ended 50 years ago. The Yeerks were forced to withdraw to their homeworld and remain there. They were only allowed to keep the host bodies they had. Does it not seem strange that there are young humans about, when the youngest host bodies would look-- his eyes settled on my human morph. like this?

"But that would mean they were--"

Breeding. Trentil finished smugly. I was feeling ridiculous, not only because I was in a hideous human body that had fallen onto the floor, but I had thought that the small group of young humans we'd encountered was normal.

But that is violating the entire peace agreement! Haieta spluttered. We all began to laugh, and it was good to know I was not the only one prone to bouts of foolishness.

Ran, poor strong, silent Ran, was trying to appear as though he understood, but his small Hork-Bajir brain was overloaded. All he knew was that we were going to them, and I saw him tremble slightly.

"I go with," he volunteered finally, his voice small but firm. "I help you." Trentil's stalk eyes turned to me as if to say him?

"You do not have to, Ran. Haf...toooo..."

"No," he said, cutting me off. "I know Yeerks." He pointed to his head. "I know--where to go." It had not occurred to me that Ran might have retained the knowledge from when he was a controller, but then again, there were many things that had not occurred to me.

"Haieta. Yet-tah..." I began to speak out loud, but before I could fully appreciate the sound, or the amount of work that was involved in pronouncing it correctly,

No, Prince Isacor. You are not leaving me here!

"You are not equipped to accompany us on this mission. You will have to remain here." The longest lines I had spoken, and I had not played with a single word. I suppose anger made me forget all that.

That is the most selfish, sexist, chauvinistic... Yossarian shook her head as Haieta listed off the adjectives and turned to leave, having successfully avoided eye contact with me the entire time.

"You guys better get some clothes on before you go out there." She threw back over her shoulder. Ah, yes, the artificial skins that helped humans retain heat, since they had little fur to speak of. Where were we going to get those? Trentil had a look in his eyes, one that told me he knew, and that it would involve violence. Several minutes later, we had gained possession of several Yeerk uniforms.

"How you get those?" Ran asked curiously.

I saw! Haieta crowed triumphantly. That was a breach of conduct, Prince Isacor! She was laughing at me.

I do not want to talk about it, I muttered. Sneaking up on the Yeerk sentries posted at the docking bay entrances and rendering them unconscious with the flat of my blade seemed so...low. It was a Yeerk thing to do.

Haieta's taunts continued to ring in my head long after we had left the Oberon, morphed, clothed, with our Yeerk expert close behind. The only thing missing was a plan. I knew I had forgotten something.


	26. Going in Circles

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** I can own my characters, right? Otherwise they'll be stolen!  
   
***A/N***: Once again, bugging a writer's blocked author prevails, and I bring you another chapter! Yay! And I have over 100 reviews! Cool! Although, when you think about it, there are 25 (now 26) chapters, and so about 4 people could review every chapter of the story and have that many...still pretty cool!

Myst4-always my best online nagger...keep up the good work! ^_^

Liaranne-ooo, people forgetting about fics is never a good sign *gulp*

DH-cheers to you for guessing old age! And updating _your_ story *dances for joy*

Lady Ryuki-you are _so_ evil, little staff editor weenie! You have the ability no one else here has...you can bug me _in person_. Yeeek!

L. Emmist-this just reaffirms my theory that Andalites are very, very clueless. *grin* Those pesky 's! I say abolish 'em!

***Summary of Previous Chapter*  
**The crew land on the Yeerk homeworld, and are greeted by a small group of controllers, who show them around. They finally do what they came for, inspecting the cargo bay where the Yeerk ships had disappeared, but find nothing. Isacor is feeling frustrated, and when Trentil suggests that the Yeerks are hiding something, they both manage to acquire the two controllers so they can look around on their own undetected. It ends with Isacor, Trentil, and Ran heading out...without a clue. 

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*~*~* Chapter 26...what the Yeerks have been up to the last 50 years...

The farther we got from the Oberon, the slower our steps became. The hallways were still vacant, so there was no one to question our presence, but our luck could not last long.

Sure enough, as we reached the doorway from before and opened it, two recognizably 'old' humans stepped out.

"V-Visser!" they stammered, eyes widening in surprise and...was it fear? They were looking at me. "What are you doing down here? Aren't you usually at the communication tower?" My human mouth opened, but I could coax no sound from it.

"Do not question the Visser's actions!" barked a voice from behind me. From the forcefulness, it could only have been Trentil, but as I glanced back at him, he seemed as surprised as me. We both looked over at Ran, who had just stepped up beside me. He appeared different; taller, more imposing. The controllers slunk past us with a "Yes, Visser, forgive us Visser" and bolted as soon as they were out of our line of vision.

"Is that good, Prince Isacor?" Ran asked me shyly, going from menacing to meek in less that a second.

"Y-yes." I said, still a bit intimidated, as though he would turn back into that...creature any moment. "Where did you learn that? Luurn tha-tuh." I still had much to learn about human mouth sounds.

"Yeerk," Ran said darkly. "Is what Yeerks do."

"That is all very well and good," Trentil said impatiently, recovering from the shock much faster than I had. "But keep in mind that we are wasting valuable time chatting with controllers. We have less than two hours."

Gathering my courage, determined not to become trapped in this sorry excuse for a body, no matter how fun the mouth sounds were, I took the lead of our group again and passed through the doorway.

I do not know what I expected, but it certainly was not more empty hallways. Where was everyone? As we continued on, I felt as if the ground sloped downward, and we were walking on a hill. I only knew this because it threw me off-balance, and every so often I would stumble against a wall. Trentil's snide remarks were all the more irritating because he spoke them without hesitation, or mouth sound experimentation, and very soon I began to think ill of him.

"Keep your feet under you, Prince Isacor!"

"I am trying! They will not stay. Ayy."

 "You have to compensate for the incline. Lean backward slightly." I did as he said, albeit grudgingly, and made it the rest of the way without incident.

"What do you make of this, Ran? Rah-nuh." I asked our companion, who had been decidedly silent thus far. Admittedly, it was partially to exclude and insult Trentil. Who would ask a Hork-Bajir their opinion over their own weapons officer?

"We go underground," he commented helpfully. "Air is cool."

"What would they put underground? Grrr-ound."

"Something they wanted no one to find." Trentil's voice, although human, had taken on the same tone as when I told him to take his station at the weapons. I hoped he would not get us caught.

The end of the passage was in sight. A wide pair of doors was set impressively back into the wall. There was a humming coming from behind them. There would be no more empty halls. We hesitated only a moment, looking at each other in silent agreement before entering.

The noise was deafening. Human ears are not as sensitive as an Andalite's, and still I had to shield them from the unexpected onslaught that assailed them. There were also people. Not a few, but a throng that immediately engulfed and carried us along with it. Humans, a few Hork-Bajir, but mostly humans. Far more than had been allotted to them at the end of the war. They certainly had been busy.

My own mind was hyperventilating, but the human's was not. He was accustomed to crowding. I let him take over, and once my initial anxiety was past, I had time to study my surroundings. I was going in circles. The room we had entered had no corners, but was one continuous curve. In the middle there was a perfectly circular hole in the floor, and the ceiling domed overhead. Along the wall were doors like the ones we had come through, but also openings that allowed one to look inside, and signs above that had no words, only pictures. I could not decipher the meanings, and had to look inside. One was a bathing place, another a room with humans resting in rows along the walls...

I nearly stopped in my tracks as I came to the next opening. A Yeerk pool. The Kandrona pulsed above the murky pool, and all around it, the humans stood patiently. No cages; no guards. I shuddered. The perfect blankness in their eyes was more chilling than anything I had ever seen before. Willing hosts, who had never known freedom, and so had no reason to scream or cry as a Yeerk burrowed into their brain. The crowd carried me past, and this time I tried to get jostled to the inside, where the floor disappeared. Several clear tubes lined the perimeter, and every so often, a platform would go up or down, carrying a load of humans and the occasional Hork-Bajir. Hesitantly, I peered over the edge, the only thing preventing me from pitching over the side being a thin railing.

It was a metropolis, like the old human cities before the mass exodus into space. Below me, there were the same circular paths, the same doors and tube passageways extending far into the abyss.

How many humans resided here? Millions, no doubt. An army. One which did no good if they could not get off the planet.

The warships.

Up to this point, I had paid little attention to the scattered conversations going on around me, but I perked up when I hear the word Andalite.

"-s have landed for an inspection."

"Really? When was the last time that happened?"

"Has to have been at least a year."

"Think they'll find anything?"

"Are you kidding? They never do. The Visser has made sure of that. They'll leave here none the wiser." The conversation faded into the white noise as quickly as it had appeared, and was replaced by another that captured my attention almost immediately.

"Visser will have our heads for this!"

"Don't give him any ideas. Let's just get to our stations at the fleet, and maybe he will forget about the whole thing." I located the owners of the voices, and found them belonging to the young humans we had seen on our inspection. They were pushing their way through the crowd, towards an unmarked door I had not noticed before. Disapproving glares were thrown their way, but were quickly forgotten, and the mass of bodies melted around their retreating forms.

The Yeerks had a fleet. The words still rang in my ears. They built an army, and we never noticed. The Captain was never going to believe this.

***A/N***

That was pretty short, huh? At least it seems that way. Only three pages on word. I was going to write more, but stumbled onto a bit of writer's block recently, and don't know how long it'll be before I post again. It's not too much of a cliffie, I don't think.


	27. True Colors

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga  
  
**Author:** weetzybat  
  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. Well, some parts of it.  
  
**A/N**: Oh my, an update! First since February. I am so sorry it took so long, but it did.

Myst4-haha! Told you I'd have something by the end of the week. That email really helped. Thank you so much!

Liaranne-aw, thank you. Hope you still read this. It has been resurrected!

DH-Just so you know, all the spoilers I told you are now null and void, since I just made a huge change in the plot. Sorry!

Lady Ryuki-You haven't been bugging me, what's up with that? (raised eyebrow)

L. Emmist-I wonder if anyone remembers their reviews, and is it even necessary to reply to them? Eh, I'll do it anyway. Thanks for reviewing!

**Summary of Previous Chapter  
**Prince Isacor, Trentil, and Ran venture into the Yeerk complex, disguised as humans/controllers. They discover a hidden world, where humans have been bred as hosts, and are now no more than hollow shells. They are looking for the Yeerk fleet they have heard about. Umm, not sure what else. This should suffice.

Chapter 27...what the Yeerks have been up to the last 50 years...

I was fighting the crowd to stay near the unmarked door, but as soon as people recognized my face, they made a special effort to stay clear. There were more mutters of "Visser," which I had finally recognized as the title of the highest ranking Yeerks. Normally numbers were assigned to distinguish them from one another, but I never heard one for me. It was just "Visser." Was I the only one left?

Trentil and Ran struggled beside me. They were faceless controllers, not worthy of the care of avoidance that was afforded me. By the time we had all gathered about the door and opened it, the two Yeerks had long since disappeared. We relaxed as the crowd was left behind. I preferred any empty passage, no matter how ominous, to that.

Several twists and turns later, we emerged in another chamber. Just how many of these were there? It was beginning to get ridiculous. But this was no ordinary room; the atmosphere was somber, and a low murmur was the loudest sound that reached my ears. The reason for the formality was obvious when I saw them; the ships of the Yeerk fleet. They followed the typical Yeerk preoccupation with size, and would have towered over the humbler Oberon. The material and construction were not nearly as impressive, but when I remembered the weaponry, it suddenly did not seem as important. The good news was that so far their fleet seemed incomplete. Assuming there was not another hidden docking bay somewhere in this maze, I calculated a total of three ships; the one we saw before us now, the one we had seen as we approached the Yeerk homeworld, and the one we had destroyed over Earth. So, technically, it had been reduced to two.

The controllers had begun to notice us, and already one was coming over, although from the look on his face, he would rather be going the opposite way.

"Is there a problem, Visser?" His words were short and clipped, and his eyes cast me a bored glance. There was something off about him; the lack of fear in his voice or stance, the subtle sneer that twisted his mouth. He was not cowering like the others, and it was unsettling. He must have noticed the odd look I was giving him, because he went on blandly. "You normally stay in the control room unless there is...an emergency."

I felt myself without words. What could I say? Why you minion, how dare you...no. Just thought I would walk around and admire all these nice ships...somehow I could not picture a Yeerk saying that. Behind me, I heard Trentil shift his human feet, impatiently or nervously I could not tell. The impudent controller's eyes bored into my own, but I could not look away; it would betray all of us. There was too much pressure on me; I could not think! The Yeerk finally spared me from having to respond by breaking eye contact and continuing.

"It is fortunate that you have come. There has been a malfunction in the communications aboard the ship, but we were waiting until the Andalites had left to tell you about it. But since you are here..." he suddenly frowned at a point behind me, and I turned awkwardly to see Trentil shaking his head.

"We have no time," he informed the controller, but was looking pointedly at me.

"I see," the Yeerk barely acknowledged the interruption. "You are taking orders from your subordinates now. I suppose it could wait--"

"No." My answer was not so much to keep up the façade of the Visser as it was a juvenile curiosity to see the inside of a Yeerk ship. I wanted to see what they had hidden from us for all these years. "I will see to it now. Ow." My thoughts were already on the secrets we would uncover, and the fumbled word came out unexpectedly. I glanced over quickly to see if he had noticed, but the controller had already turned away from me.

The exit hatch was opened, a gaping hole into the belly of a misshapen monster. I paused for a moment. There were stairs. I had never navigated a stairway before; on all Andalite ships there were ramps and gentle inclines, more suited to our tastes. The steep, jutting metal plates looked cruel and unfriendly; just the type of thing a Yeerk ship would have.

I grabbed the bar, my fingers turning white with the excess pressure I placed on them, and slowly lifted one foot from the comforting ground. Even with my arms anchored, I teetered precariously, and hurriedly found the first step and brought all my weight down on it. There was a jarring clang that echoed through the bay, and several heads turned in surprise.

"Hurry up!" Trentil hissed from behind. "You look like an idiot!" My legs shook, and there were plenty more odd glances before I reached the top. It gave me comfort that although Trentil was faster, he was possibly worse at balancing himself, and nearly fell a few times. Ran plodded behind with not so much as one misstep, and I thought it ironic that we, who claimed such superior intelligence, could not even master a simple concept like traversing a stepped surface. The absurdity of it was quite amusing.

"Huh huh huh."

"What are you doing now, Prince Isacor?" The odd noise was coming from my mouth, but I had no idea what had caused it, and it took a minute to realize that I had been unconsciously trying to laugh.

"Ha ha ha. Ho ho—heee." I tried it out again, in an effort to make it sound the way a proper human's would. It was only a quick, forced exhaling of air, but the sensation it caused made me understand why humans used it to indicate pleasure. I wanted to do it some more, but Trentil's scornful look made all the breath die inside me.

"We have two minutes to demorph," he warned me in a low voice after I had sobered.

"I know," I told him irritably. Did he think he was the only Andalite with an internal clock?

The inside of the ship was a minor disappointment. The Yeerks' secret technological breakthrough in weaponry obviously did not extend to the rest of the ship. The narrow passage before us was poorly lit, and the air was heavy and sour-smelling. I was afraid to touch the walls that closed in on either side, and my human body was barely small enough to allow me to avoid it. Fortunately a control room, presumably the bridge, could be seen at the end of the tunnel. I moved as quickly as I dared, while the floor made disconcerting noises beneath me, as though it could give way at any time.

The only thing that made the bridge better than the place we had come from was its size. I did not wait for Trentil and Ran to get in before I demorphed. I wanted my own limbs back; my elderly body was winded from the long walk. My other set of legs emerged first, and helped to balance my weak human ones. The cloth of my uniform was immediately torn to shreds, but at the moment I could not have cared less. Trentil's blue fir was already sprouting as he emerged just ahead of Ran, reassuring me that I was not the only one eager to return to my original form. Stalk eyes returned last, and I sighed in relief at having 360 degree vision again, even though my increased weight now made the floor groan more.

Now what do we do?

Nothing seems to be the best option at the moment. Trentil's four eyes were now fixed on a spot just beyond me. I swiveled my own to see the Visser, the _real_ Visser, emerge from the shadows, followed by his cohorts from before. They each held a Yeerk dracon beam, and they were all pointed at us.

"It seems you Andalites have lost your way." A trap. I should have seen it when the controller first met my gaze. "If I had known how much our world interested you, I'd have given you the full tour." He hadn't been afraid, and everyone was afraid of the Visser. "I'm quite pleased with my accomplishments over these many years. But tell me, what do you think of our little operation? I welcome any and all feedback." I recalled the humans, eyes blank and uncomprehending as they bent over the filthy pools and allowed slugs to penetrate their brains.

You are a monster. The Yeerk laughed.

"Ah, I prefer the term 'genius', or 'mastermind' myself, but to each his own opinion..." he suddenly frowned and studied us all again. "Why doesn't your other crew member demorph?" He must have thought Ran was Haieta, a reasonable assumption, since he had only seen the three of us. I thought it was not in our best interest to antagonize armed Yeerks, but Trentil evidently didn't think at all.

She would rather become a nothlit than let an abomination like you capture her as an Andalite. The Visser visibly twitched, and moved towards Trentil until his weapon was inches away from his nose.

"I don't believe you are in any position to call people names--" he had not even finished the sentence when Trentil's tailblade cut off his hand at the wrist. It made a dull thud as it hit the floor, the dracon beam clattering away uselessly. We all stared, transfixed, at what once had been a part of the Visser's anatomy, but was now a lifeless object on the floor.

You—you can't do that! Can you do that? I had my main eyes on the severed hand, one stalk eye on the Yeerks, and the other on Trentil. My question remained unanswered, and Trentil lifted his blade, now stained with the sickly red color of human blood, to the Visser's throat.

Next time you threaten an Andalite, make sure you are out of range first. he told the controller, whose face had turned a grayish color, and seemed more interested in the stump of his arm than in what Trentil had to say. And you, if you want your Visser's head to stay where it is, I would recommend dropping your weapons. The others had drawn their dracon beams, but now looked uncertainly at their leader. Getting no response, they slowly placed them on the floor. Isacor.

I had been staring at the hand, imagining it suddenly twitching and grabbing the dracon beam that lay a few inches away. At the sound of my name, I jumped.

Take their weapons. He was so calm, so collected. How many times had he done this before? The words of the Andalite on earth came back to me. _You have it in you. The hate. The rage. It would not surprise me if you had killed before._ Admittedly, he had not killed anyone yet, but his apparent indifference at mutilation chilled me to the core. I stepped gingerly around the severed limb, and the small dark pool that was slowly forming around it. I collected the three weapons, and gave one to Trentil without meeting any of his eyes, at the same time wondering whether I was doing the right thing by doing so. The Visser seemed to have recovered somewhat, and was now looking at us with nothing less than pure hatred.

"You will never make it off this planet alive." His voice was hoarse and shaky, but his words were deadly serious. "My people will open fire the moment anything exits this ship."

Even their own Visser?

Trentil, no. This had gone far enough. It was time for me to take charge again. As soon as we give him up, there's nothing to stop them from blowing up their own ship. I looked around us. It had been so long since I had been in a manually controlled ship. Could we even get it off the ground? And how would we rendezvous with the Oberon if we did? Take Ran and try to get this thing started. I will watch the Yeerks.

**A/N**  
bad ending. Not really an ending at all. Again, not sure when next update will be. Hopefully in the near future.


	28. A Thing Called Life

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga

**Author:** weetzybat

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Hope to finish it one day, though…

**A/N**: I just finished rereading my story in its entirety, and now I'm excited to get writing on it again. It'll be interesting to see how my style has changed in the year I've been away…

**Summary of Previous Chapter **

Oh dear, it seems Isacor has allowed himself to be led right into a trap! As he and his crew try to negotiate themselves out of the clutches of the Yeerks, Trentil manages to relieve the Visser of his weapon by cutting off his hand. Now, with the Yeerks weaponless, they must come up with a plan to get out of this rather sticky situation.

Chapter 28...escape...and another unpleasant surprise...

Once Ran and Trentil left, there was nothing to do but wait. We stayed frozen in our positions, staring at each other. The Visser's face had gone slack, losing all expression and causing the lines of his face to deepen, making him seem even older. He had tucked his mangled arm into his good one, in an ineffectual attempt to hide his wound in the crook of his elbow; now the blood was seeping quickly into the cloth. Seeing the front of his uniform turn red so swiftly made me wonder just how much blood a human could lose before dying. I wished Trentil would hurry.

Nervously, I began to pace, keeping an eye on the Yeerks as I tentatively explored the control room. There was not much to see: buttons, displays, and seats meant for humans and Hork-Bajir, and certainly not Andalite-friendly. I quickly became so bored that I was relieved when the Visser began speaking to me again, even though I knew he would only try to antagonize me.

"Tell me, Andalite. What will you do to us if you escape?"

What do you think I should do?>

"If I was in your place, you would be ejected into space with the rest of the waste," he said bluntly.

It is a good thing I am not like you then.>

"Perhaps. It doesn't matter, anyway. I'll probably be dead before you can make up your minds."

I would not count on it. One of our crew members is quite a skilled surgeon.>

"Ah, yes, he did quite a nice job of operating on my hand back there, didn't he?" I felt a slight tremor through my hooves as the ship came to life around me. No sooner had it registered, when it choked, shuddered, and died. "Fine crew you have there. Top notch."

His smug look soon became forced as the ship trembled and sprang back to life, this time settling into a surprisingly quiet purr. Keeping the Yeerks in sight with my stalk eyes, I moved to the consoles on the bridge. I scanned them, trying to make sense of the odd symbols and drastically different layout of the ship. How was I going to fly this thing? At the edge of my vision, Ran appeared, edging around the Controllers to stand at my side.

Do you know how to fly a ship?> I asked him privately. I was always underestimating the Hork-Bajir, and it made me realize how very little I knew about him.

"No. I only watch."

Can you understand these symbols?> I motioned towards the consoles. He leaned forward.

"Make ship go." He answered simply. He pointed to another set of buttons and switches. "These make voices." Ah, communications. That would be useful for contacting the Ob eron when we took off. If we took off. Ran's vague knowledge was not going to get us very far. I walked towards the Controllers, and motioned towards a human, one of the Vis ser's followers.

You will pilot this ship out of the dock. If you do anything other than that, it will be the last thing you ever do.> The human raised his head and glared at me defiantly, but his eyes kept straying to my tailblade. Ran, watch to make sure he follows flight protocol.>

"They will nev er let you off the ground." The Vis ser sneered.

Perhaps,> I said. That all depends on what you tell them to do. It depends on how badly you want to live.> I flipped several switches and pressed a few buttons until I had opened the communications link. I could see the Vis ser's mind at work, a slow realization, and a consequent decision.

The ship shuddered beneath us, and then a clattering roar, growing in intensity, enveloped the bridge. We were moving now, and the Vis ser had a narrow window of opportunity. If he did not appeal to the Yeerks waiting outside, we would crash into the landing bay doors. Leaning forward, he spoke.

"This is your Vis ser. Let this ship pass." There was no answer. For one horrible moment, I though I had turned it to the wrong frequency. Then, the doors in front of us parted, and we were screaming through a tunnel that arched upwards, until we burst out into the Yeerk atmosphere. I released the breath I had not even known I was holding. For a moment back there, I had been afraid that he would die to protect his cause; but he was just like all the others, and survival always triumphed over loyalty. For once, I was relieved he was a Yeerk.

Ran was staring at the human intently, and the proximity of his blades seemed to have kept the Yeerk focused, even though I knew that even if the Controller had disobeyed, he would not have used his blades to inflict harm. The poor Hork-Bajir probably did not even know if the Yeerk was performing the right maneuvers.

I noticed we were being hailed, and after more fumbling with the communications display, a familiar face appeared on the screen.

"Hey, I wondered where you had run off to," Yossarian said. "After you left, the Yeerks tried to board the Ob eron, so we made a tactical decision to wait in orbit."

You mean run away!> Haieta's voice interrupted. Prince Isacor, I tried to follow your orders, but she locked me in the medical bay!>

"Relax, I wasn't going to--" suddenly she was silent, staring at a point just beyond me. At the Vis ser. Suddenly the image flickered and vanished, replaced by the dark sky.

"I await your instruction, Prince Isacor." The Ob eron was speaking now, so the communication link must still be active. I pushed the strange incident aside and gave her instructions to let us board her. I made sure to give her the identities of our prisoners beforehand, to avoid any incident.

The only thing left to do was wait. I faced the Vis ser with my main eyes, and saw that his human face had contorted. There was rage and hate in his eyes, far more hostile than he had ever been to me.

"I see you Andalites have sunk so low as to consort with common traitors," he hissed between his teeth. It was an unpleasant sound, and I wondered how humans could make such ugly noises.

I suppose I am, since I am consorting with you,> I told him evenly.

"I wasn't talking about me, I was talking about that filty betrayer you have aboard your ship."

She is a human from Earth. You must be mistaken.>

"It is you who are mistaken, Andalite. Her name is Yarliss 77065, and she is a Yeerk."


	29. Prelude to a Dream

**Title:** The Post-Animorphs Saga

**Author:** weetzybat

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Hope to finish it one day, though…

**Note:** I can't believe I have to use parentheses for thoughtspeech. Lame! In any case, this is not my best work, but this chapter was 3/4 written from six months ago and I wanted to post _something_...and it transitions nicely into Yossarian's backstory, which I spent a helluva lot of time thinking up.

**Summary of Previous Chapter **

Isacor has captured the Visser, leader of the Yeerks, but things have never been that simple. The Yeerk has recognized Yossarian, and claims she also is a Yeerk.

Chapter 29...truth has never been an easy burden…

I am not gifted at determining the mood of someone, especially an alien species like humans, who use their entire face for expression rather than just the eyes, to which I am more accustomed. I also suspect their hands are a means of communication, since they always appear to be in motion. I feel that if I could only determine the meaning of some of their hand gestures, I would be able to understand them a lot better.

Standing in front of Yossarian, I was equally confused. Her eyes glared at me in anger, but her hands were twisting together in fear. Yet her voice was flat and betrayed nothing.

"A Yeerk."

(Yes.)

"Me."

(Yes.)

"And you believe him because…"

(I did not say I believed him.)

"Your face says you do." She was staring straight into my eyes, but I found I was unable to meet her gaze.

(He recognized you. If you had seen his face--)

"This is crazy. How could I be a Yeerk? Do you realize how long we've been in space now? They need a Kandrona; without it, they'll die." All four of my eyes focused on her now. She stopped, instantly regretting the words.

(You seem to know a great deal about Yeerks, Yossarian.)

(Sounds like personal experience to me.) Trentil had appeared in the doorway, eyes narrowed, tail arched aggressively.

(Where is the Visser?) I asked him privately, all eyes still on Yossarian. I had ordered Trentil to take him to the medical bay as soon as we boarded. His skin was turning an odd gray-green color that, I was fairly sure, was an abnormal skin tone for a human. His clothing was soaked in dark blood. I felt a moment's worry about Haieta's skills as a surgeon, but now wasn't the time for doubts. Trentil's face did not betray a thing, so I was relieved when he finally spoke.

(Recovering, unfortunately. I have to admit, Haieta is handy with a scalpel…) He sounded grudgingly impressed. (How is the interrogation going?)

(Questioning, not interrogation,) I told him privately, then speaking publicly to Yossarian, (Why did you cut communications after you saw the Visser?)

"I-- " She was struggling for an answer. "It's your stupid ship. I pieced together the Oberon from nothing! You can't expect everything to work perfectly!"

(My Prince, I think I know how to find out if she's telling the truth.) Haieta had appeared beside Trentil. There was a sureness in her posture I hadn't noticed before, even a slight swagger. (An outdated machine which can scan the brain. It will no doubt pick up something as large as a Yeerk, if it happens to be sharing the same space.)

"Listen, it isn't what you think," there was no anger anymore, just naked fear. Her eyes widened, darting between the three of us. I remembered an Earth animal that had the same look in its eyes when it had felt cornered, trapped. "I'm not like them. I'm not your enemy!"

(But you are a Yeerk.)

"I helped you when no one else would. I _saved_ you when no one else could. Don't you dare compare me to him. To that _parasite_!" She seemed to be choking on her own words, and the anger was back.

(That's a very interesting choice of words, coming from you. I wonder how your host feels about all this?) Trentil commented.

"I _am_ her. Without me, she doesn't exist. She feels nothing; she is nothing."

(Then you won't mind vacating the body and proving it.) I could not believe I was having this conversation. Nowhere in my training had we ever learned anything about this. The Yeerks had ceased to be a threat, and the information given to us regarding them was purely historical. I know I should place her in holding with the other Yeerks, but some part of me must have wanted to believe her story. A part of me wanted to believe that I hadn't just put my entire crew at risk.

(What I would like to know is how she is still alive when we've been traveling for weeks in deep space with no visible kandrona aboard.) Haieta mused out loud. (She must have put something here on the ship. It could be anything.)

"Look," Yossarian interrupted, with the air of someone coming to a particularly difficult decision. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything, but I need your promise--"

(We do not owe you a promise. Who are you to make demands on us, who hold you at our mercy?) I could see my weapons officer visibly bristle, his every word spat in disgust.

(Very eloquent, Trentil, but I think that is my decision to make,) I said to him quietly. More than anything, I wanted to know this human's, or was it Yeerk's, story. I desperately needed to hear something truthful for once. (What promise do you need?)

"That you will listen to the whole thing, _without_ interruption or judgement, until the end." Her anger and fear seemed to have disappeared, and now she simply looked exhausted, the pressure of the secrets she carried finally taking their toll.

(How will we know you are telling the truth?)

"The Visser will corroborate part of my story. The Chee could attest to another. As to the part in between, you will only have my word that I will not lie to you. Can you accept that?"

(I will listen to you.)

"I knew you would." She closed her eyes briefly, digging into memories that may never have been uttered to another living being until this day. I did not say anything to Haieta or Trentil. I had a feeling that they wanted to hear this story as much as I did.


End file.
